


La Douleur Exquise

by SapphireSmoke



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: & if I see the word Phiss in my comments I will literally flay you alive, Amnesia, Angst, Canon Lesbian Character, Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Flashbacks, Headcanon: Yen pegs Geralt, Idiots in love who don't even realize they're in love, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, Magic-Users, Masturbation, Merihart endgame, Phil is emotionally stunted, Romance, Strap-Ons, Unrequited Love, and Triss is the biggest sub on the planet, because they are idiots, dont @ me, looking @ u Chey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-16 13:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18522862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireSmoke/pseuds/SapphireSmoke
Summary: Sometimes, when you stare too long at something unattainable, you forget to be grateful for the things that you already have. Unfortunately, Triss knew this better than most.





	1. PART I

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** [Cheyenne](http://sexualsportswear.tumblr.com/)  
>  **A/N:** I finally finished the books and got hit with FEELINGS so here we are again. Although this fic starts after the books and goes through the events of the games (and also pulls minimal dialog from both), be aware that when hit with a contradiction such as character appearance or name, I have gone with the book versions as they are considered to be more canon. So if you’ve just played the games and are confused why I did ‘xyz’ that’s probably why. Anyway, this will probably only be like three or so parts, so don’t expect anything super long.

 

**PART I**

“ _She isn’t dead!”_

A suffocating tightness gripped Triss’ chest as she fought to will her words into existence. She had watched Ciri sail away with them, yes, but Yennefer had just been unconscious. Geralt though, the witcher, he was dying; _was_ dead by now, no doubt. Getting speared with a pitchfork was not something one could easily come back from, and as the two sorceresses had spent all their energy on trying to ward off the rioting townsfolk, when the time came, they had none to spare for his life. The guilt ate away at Triss’ soul, but there was a part of her that thought perhaps, if she were to find Yennefer and Ciri again, if she were to make certain that they were _alright_ and cared for _,_ that Geralt would forgive her.

Because she had made so many mistakes regarding him. Regarding them both, truthfully; him and Yennefer, the two people whom Triss had once tried to get in the middle of because of reasons she hadn’t fully understood back then.

But she understood now. _God,_ she understood it now so badly that it hurt, and unfortunately, it seemed that she was not the only one who knew the truth that Triss once thought she could ignore.

Philippa Eilhart, a sorceress of regal beauty and devastating power, reached out to gently caress the younger woman’s cheek. It should have been comforting, but Triss could feel the condescension in the gesture. Sometimes, here in this place that Philippa had carved out for them amidst the rubble of the world, Triss felt taken care of. Other times, she felt like nothing more than a silly toy, only here to pass the time until Philippa found something else more entertaining.

“I know why you desire her survival, but to delude yourself is far worse than facing an unfavorable truth,” Philippa told her, her fingertips tracing the curvature of the younger woman’s jaw. Triss wished it did not distract as much as it did, for that only made her feel worse. Philippa always did know how to tear her away from reality though, and for someone who had such an unforgiving one, it was a gift Triss found herself unable to ignore. “Despite what you may wish, you and I both know how much that foolish woman loved her witcher, and you _know_ that she would not have given up. She would have given all of herself to save him, and she did. It just was not enough. You must accept it and move on; we still have important matters to attend to. The Lodge needs your full attention right now, Triss.”

 _Fuck the Lodge,_ Triss wanted to say, yet bit her tongue in the statement’s stead. Instead, her face flushed with upset, her breath exhaling unsteadily.

“ _I_ need your full attention.”

That was playing dirty, and Philippa knew it. She did not care though, and suddenly slender fingers were sliding through chestnut hair until they tangled at the base of Triss’ neck, eliciting a light gasp. Philippa’s body pressed against hers and Triss’ head swam, but this wasn’t what they were—this was _important…_

“I owe it to him to find her, Phil— to find both of them.”

Philippa’s lips paused just before they connected with the young woman’s jugular. A long, frustrated sigh followed. She pulled back. “Geralt is _dead,_ ” Philippa harshly reminded her consort. “Your ill-placed guilt because of your unrequited love does not have a place here anymore.”

Triss almost laughed at that. “I wasn’t in _love_ with Geralt.”

“No,” Philippa agreed, but her tone held something behind it. Knowledge. Understanding. _Judgement_. “You were not, were you?”

Triss’ stomach dropped to the floor, suddenly afraid that Philippa would toss her aside for such an emotional betrayal. Philippa may not be where her heart resided, but Triss _needed_ her. She was the only stability that she had, the only sanity that comforted her after the world had tried to rob her from it time and time again. However, the other woman only rolled her eyes at the look on Triss’ face.

“You can’t possibly fear that I’m _jealous?”_ Philippa laughed softly, as if the fact that her lover pined after another was of little to no consequence to her. Triss wasn’t entirely sure if she should be relieved or hurt by that reaction, and something in the pit of her gut twisted.

“I enjoy you, my pet, but your emotional devotion was never something I sought from you. Your uses far extend something so frivolous,” Philippa informed her, gently brushing an errant strand from the younger sorceress’ eyes. She smirked then, as though she were amused beyond what was called for in this situation, as it made Triss feel even more foolish. “You really thought I didn’t know?”

“… _I_ hardly knew,” Triss admitted softly, her cheeks coloring with shame and regret.

Because it had taken her too long - longer than Triss would have liked to admit - to realize the extent of her feelings for Yennefer. They had slept together once; what felt like a lifetime ago. It had been nothing more than an overindulgence of wine and the desire to try something different with a trusted friend, and though it weighed on Triss’ mind from time to time, she did not think much more of it. Sorceresses tended to have many partners and never really regarded sex as anything particularly _special_ , and although Yennefer had been Triss’ first time with a woman, she certainly had not been her last.

But then Geralt came along, and he was so unlike anyone that Triss had ever met before. Triss had grown fond of him, but Yen had grown fonder. It made Triss jealous, and like a fool she actually believed it was because she _herself_ had wanted him. Yet Triss eventually had him, had practically tricked Geralt into giving her exactly what it was that she thought she desired, and nothing changed. There was still this emptiness inside of her that Triss did not know how to sate, and for a while she thought it was because his heart still belonged to her, not realizing for a second that it was because _hers_ still belonged to _him._

What an idiot she had been.

Because it wasn’t just about the fact that they slept together once, or that she was jealous when she saw how happy she was with Geralt. It was how Yennefer had always been one of her dearest friends, it was how she was patient and wise and helped Triss grow into herself and her own abilities. It was how she squinted when she laughed and how her hair contrasted in the light of the sun; it was how her voice gave Triss a rush of excitement, and how her gaze caused the pit of her stomach to twist and burn.

Yennefer was _fire,_ and all Triss ached for was be consumed by it. By her.

“You were awfully transparent when Yennefer unexpectedly dropped in on us to spew her ridiculous platitudes about keeping the Lodge’s secrets safe. _Blushing_ in guilt as you tried to hide my presence from her,” Philippa told her, the corners of her lips still curled upwards in amusement as she continued to play with the young woman’s hair. It was almost as though she were grooming her, and it made Triss feel very young. Naive. “It was almost cute, until you started shamelessly begging for a traitor’s forgiveness. Did you know then, that she would always break your heart?”

Triss turned her cheek from the other woman. “Don’t be cruel, Phil.”

But yes. The answer was yes. Then, Triss knew, and yet she still ached for the pain anyway. She truly wished that she knew why, for it seemed to be nothing but madness.

“If my words sting you, then you misunderstand their intentions,” Philippa responded, her tone softer this time. Kinder. She brushed her fingers across Triss' cheek once more, coaxing the young woman to meet her gaze. Suddenly, Triss felt so very delicate, as though anything more than a mere touch would shatter her soul. “I don’t say these things to hurt you, but to make you realize that there is no happiness in chasing a double-edged sword. Whether you find Yennefer or not, whether she is alive or _not_ , she will still cut you. She will cut you as she has so many times before and you will find yourself here with me once again, begging me to erase the scars that she’s left upon your heart.”

Triss’ brow etched. “I’ve never…”

“You never had to.”

Triss swallowed the emotion that had welled up in the back of her throat, trying to ignore the mist that had formed over her eyes as Philippa reminded her of the ugly truth that she could not bear to face. But she was thankful, she had _always_ been thankful for Philippa. Despite never having been asked, the woman had always known how to fix her when she was broken, and so Triss, in her desperate desire to mend the crack in her soul, leaned forwards and pressed her lips against what was safe and honest and _real_ in her life.

The kiss was returned in kind.

Triss wanted to forget, to just move on and finally make a life for herself that wasn’t steeped in pain and regret _,_ but the guilt of just giving up on the woman she loved was weighing heavy on her thoughts and so to push them away Triss kissed Philippa harder, her fingertips digging into the back of the other woman’s neck.

“You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

The words were breathed unevenly against a pair of lips as Triss was purposefully backed up towards the bed. She was begging; Triss could hear it in her own voice and it sounded awfully pathetic, but in that moment, she couldn’t find it within herself to care. She needed Philippa right now; perhaps she had always needed her, even though it was no doubt foolish to need someone who very clearly did not return the sentiment.

The back of Triss’ knees hit the bed, and a fierce beauty toppled down upon her. Triss’ eyes fell closed as she felt purposeful hands unclasp her dress and hot breaths against her ear. “You needn’t have to ask,” Philippa told her, and God, the sound of her voice made Triss bloody _weak._ Her insides clenched and her cheeks flooded with color, and Triss could feel the other woman smile wickedly against her neck, for she knew what she did to her.

And she _enjoyed_ it.

Perhaps it was Philippa who was fooling herself. Perhaps she did need someone more than she let on, and only sealed her heart away so it would never become broken. But then there was this other part of her, this part of Triss that feared that she really was nothing more than a game; a means to an end, a way to give Philippa more power, let alone a sure-fire way to manipulate a member of the Lodge.

How many other members was Philippa bedding to achieve those ends, Triss wondered.

 _Don’t think like that,_ she silently demanded, feeling her self-confidence spiraling when this moment was meant to do the opposite. It was quickly overshadowed by a surge of arousal though as Philippa’s mouth closed around the base of her neck, the woman having sucked the supple flesh into her mouth with such ferocity that Triss _knew_ it would leave a mark later. She moaned, her fingernails digging into the older woman’s back as she felt Philippa’s hand shove the bottom of her dress upwards.

“Besides,” Philippa husked as she began to move down the young sorceress’ body, pushing fabric out of the way until she reached her desired destination. “Even if Yennefer were alive, even if she were to bed you and fulfil all those wistful little fantasies of yours, that woman would _never_ be able to make you feel the way I do. No one could. Remember that, for it’ll do you well to realize that you could finally want for nothing at all, should you only allow yourself to.”

 _If_ Yennefer ever bedded her _._ At the very least, Philippa did not hold all her secrets. Not yet.

Triss did not have time to retort though. Philippa’s mouth was on her and suddenly Triss forgot how to breath, to see, to do _anything_ other than cry out and grasp for the woman between her thighs. Her back arched off the mattress, her eyes squeezed shut so tightly that she saw stars behind her lids and felt fireworks within her loins, and maybe Philippa was right.

Maybe she was _right._

[x]

_“You aren’t riding to a rendezvous with your lover, Triss,” Yennefer had reminded her, looking at the other woman with contempt born from her own misplaced jealousy. “I’m neither so noble, nor so stupid as to give you the chance and him the temptation.”_

You idiot, _Triss thought, her insides aching from the look she was receiving._ You absolute fool, it’s not him that I want.

_“A little more humility, you arrogant slut! He’s my man, mine and only mine!”_

_Triss was_ angry. _Yennefer screamed and in that moment, Triss hated her. She hated her for being so narrowminded, for being so bloody_ wrong _all the time. She hated_ him _for turning Yennefer into this person, when Triss had always known her to rise above all others, instead of—!_

_There was screaming, but this time it wasn’t coming from either of them._

_“Witch! Elven witch! Enchantress!”_

_Triss shouted as Yennefer was hit on the shoulders, on the back of her head. The woman fell to her knees before she ripped through them all with pale blue fire, and Triss, in her desperation and fear, grasped onto the only thing she could truly see in that moment. “Let’s flee from here… Yenna!”_

_But Yennefer wouldn’t flee. Yennefer wouldn’t leave either of them, and it was then that Triss knew she had doomed herself. Doomed them both. Because she could not leave Yennefer to her fate, and as stones rained down upon them and blood squirted from Yennefer’s nose, Triss grasped onto the briefly unconscious woman to pull her to safety._

_“Triss …” Yennefer gurgled once she had come to, the blood beginning to flow down the back of her throat. “Teleport us out of here!”_

_“No, Yennefer.”_

_Triss knew Yennefer would never forgive her if they left Geralt, if they left Ciri, and so Triss resolved herself to stay. To die if she must, if that was her fate. She would not weep and faint in fear as she had at Sodden Hill. She would not leave Yennefer; she would not leave_ anyone _. Not again._

_A hailstorm raged from above as a power Triss had never really known flowed through her with devastating results. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing she had done was ever enough. The crowd had dispersed but Geralt was still lying in a pool of his own blood, and Triss was paralyzed with devastation as she watched the light start to go out in Yennefer’s eyes as she tried in vain to heal a dying man._

“Stop!”

It was what Triss had wanted to say, wanted to scream until her throat was reddened and raw because she could see what Yennefer was doing to herself, but the word never crossed her lips. Not until now, not until nearly five years after those events when she awoke from a dream feeling feverish and frightened. Triss clutched the sheets to her chest as she sat straight up, her breathing coming out in heavy, uneven bursts.

The body next to her groaned sleepily, and a man’s hand landed heavily on her thigh. “Triss…?”

The voice was deep, familiar. A man back from the dead; come to haunt her, _taunt_ her, and remind her of all her failures that she would rather forget. Something inside of Triss’ gut twisted uncomfortably but she quickly reminded herself of why she was here, and what she was trying to achieve by participating in this madness.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep, Geralt.”

The words were said in the same tone she had used since shortly after she met an amnesia-riddled Geralt of Rivia in Kaer Morhen. It was deeper than her normal voice, and much more self-assured. It had just been a stray thought, a moment of ‘what if’ that spun out of control, even though Triss believed that it would eventually prove to be worth it.

The mind of an amnesiac was a delicate thing, and the mind of an amnesiac _witcher_ was even more so. It was a combination of having undergone extensive mutations and those damned potions that they took, and so Vesemir had told Triss that the best course of action would be to allow Geralt to regain his memories on his own. That meant that she could not tell Geralt about Ciri, that meant she could not tell him about _Yennefer,_ and so Triss did the only thing she could think to do in that moment: she became her instead.

And perhaps it was stupid; perhaps no amount of _acting_ like Yennefer would make Geralt remember who she was, but Triss was desperate. If Geralt was alive, that meant that Yennefer probably was as well, and Triss… she needed to know for sure. She needed to _find_ her.

“I heard… screaming.”

Geralt sounded confused, blinking heavily as he tried to clear the sleep from his mind. He did not fare very well in the task.

“You’re still feverish, my darling,” Triss told him softly, the back of her hand touching his clammy forehead. He still looked and felt awful; whatever happened in that swamp had taken a lot out of him. “Go back to sleep now. You must heal.”

Geralt mumbled a few more incoherent words, but did as he was instructed, leaving Triss to look down at the man sleeping next to her and wonder how much longer she could keep this up before fantasy inevitably faded away, and she was trapped in a reality built on lies.

[x]

“Strange seeing _your_ face here; I had thought you’d abandoned the Lodge to tend to your witcher.”

Color flooded Triss’ cheeks as she stood in the doorway of Philippa’s house in the dwarven town of Vergen. Despite how that accusation made her feel though, Triss continued to maintain eye contact; she would not be shamed for her priorities as of late. “I never abandoned the Lodge, Phil. I just… got sidetracked. Momentarily.” A beat, and Triss shuffled the weight between her feet. “And he is not _mine.”_

Philippa smirked. She looked amused – mostly at Triss’ expense. “Does _he_ know that?”

Triss, however, chose not to answer that. Geralt was so very far from the conversation that they _should_ be having. After seeing Sheala in Flotsam, Triss had begun to grow paranoid about what the Lodge _wasn’t_ telling her, and it was then that she realized that she had been far removed from any of their dealings. She just hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

“Is that why you cut me off? Why I was no longer included in the Lodge’s plans?” Triss asked, growing angry. “You thought that my _loyalty_ had wavered?”

“It has been six months, Triss. Six months since you’ve been actively involved in our order, and yet you think that you can come here and demand answers? Demand our _trust?_ Don’t make me laugh.”

“Is that truly how little you think of me?” Triss asked, her chest weighing heavy with emotion as she set eyes on the woman that had been such a significant part of her life for many, many years. “You know it was never Geralt I truly cared for, and yet you really believe that I threw out my entire life because of him? Because he came _back?”_

“No,” Philippa agreed. Her expression was still void of emotion, but Triss knew it was nothing more than a well-placed mask. Philippa had always been awfully good at detaching herself from things in order to dictate and rule. “But Geralt is the link between yourself and your beloved Yennefer, is he not? And although I know the Lodge was once a great priority of yours, I cannot guarantee that now. _That_ is what concerns me, and it was why I instructed the other members to keep you in the dark about our plans. You are emotional, Triss. It is something I’ve found to be enchantingly endearing at times, but it also makes for a terrible ally.”

Triss sucked in a sharp breath at those words, surprised by how painfully they twisted in her gut. She had come here in a wave of self-righteous anger over not being included, yes, but this was _Philippa._ She wasn’t supposed to just toss her aside like that; she wasn’t supposed to be this mistrustful of her, for Triss had never done anything to really deserve it. At least not when it came to _her_.

“Yennefer was not the only person I cared about,” Triss responded angrily, the words hitching in the back of her throat. It took every ounce of self-control to not start crying with frustrated tears, and her next words came out scathing. “And _fuck_ you if you honestly thought that she was.”

Triss felt her throat close as she fought her upset, and she turned away from the woman whom she refused to let see her cry. However, the door that she had left open in her wake of fury now shut loudly before her without any physical prompting, blocking her path to freedom. A tear finally escaped from her eye then, making its torturous decent down Triss’ cheek.

“See, what did I tell you? Emotional.”

It wasn’t said in a negative way though. If anything, Philippa just sounded a little exasperated by it. Triss could feel the other woman behind her, yet she still jumped a little when Philippa touched her arm, encouraging her to turn around. Triss’ brow was set, her cheeks flushed and wet. The corners of Philippa’s mouth turned down into a frown before she wiped away the tears as though she were an impatient mother cleaning their child’s face.

“Don’t be so ridiculous. I’m not casting you out, but I do reserve the right to be wary. Either way, your position with the Lodge is not synonymous with your position with _me,_ so come to bed. It’s why you came here, wasn’t it?”

Triss exhaled an exasperated sigh and pulled away from her. “No, that is not why I _came here._ I came here because I wanted to know why—! _”_

“You know why,” Philippa interrupted, causing the rest of Triss’ words to die in the back of her throat. “And it’s something we will discuss later, once I am certain of your intentions. But for now, I’m sure you’re in _desperate_ need of some actual satisfaction; I can’t imagine the witcher is much good for that.”

Philippa held out her hand in offering, and although there was a part of Triss who wanted to tell her to shove it because she couldn’t just push her away with one hand and beckon with the other, at the end of the day, Triss had _missed_ her. And it was so terribly, terribly annoying, because it only furthered Philippa’s belief that she could always get her way.

Triss took her hand anyway.

“Just because _you’ve_ lost your taste for men, Philippa, does not mean the rest of us have,” Triss reminded her, feeling a little offended on Geralt’s behalf. No, he was not the best she had ever had, but he certainly was not the worst either.

Philippa smirked as she began to lead her to bed. “I wasn’t talking about him being a _man_. I was talking about how he screams ‘bend me over’ and you, despite your _many_ talents in the bedroom, do not have it in you to do such a thing. Not a very compatible match, if you ask me.”

Triss nearly choked on her own breath. “Geralt—he… that is _not—”_ The rest of her words fell away to nothing as Philippa pushed her unceremoniously onto the mattress, causing Triss to exhale a soft _oof._

“I suppose that was why he liked her though,” Philippa mused as she placed her hands on the edge of the mattress, beginning to crawl over to her lover. Triss watched her, her lips parting in anticipation as the angle gave her a fantastic view of the sorceress’ ample cleavage. “Yennefer certainly seemed the _type_ to strap one on, didn’t she? You’ve no doubt pleasured yourself to the thought, I’m sure; _desperately_ wishing that she would’ve done the same to you at least once.”

Philippa laughed while Triss’ face fell into one of upset. Why did she always have to do this? It wasn’t funny, and the last thing Triss wanted to think about while she was in bed with Philippa was Yennefer. That didn’t seem fair to either of them, yet it was as though Philippa purposely kept pushing her buttons because—

_Oh._

“You _are_ jealous.”

The realization hit Triss like a sack of bricks, slacking her jaw as she stared at the woman who was now hovering above her. Philippa did look momentarily startled by the accusation, but her mask was easily replaced. She brushed it off. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no gain in competing with a dead woman.”

Triss’ heart dropped at those words, and suddenly Philippa was shoved off of her. The older woman sighed, as though Triss’ constant desire to have _emotions_ was taxing to her.

But before Philippa could say anything, there was a small crash behind the screen on the opposite side of the room. The sound nearly made Triss jump out of her skin as she turned to face the sound, but Philippa just exhaled a frustrated breath. “Cynthia! I told you never to interrupt me when I have guests!” She got off the bed then, crossing the room towards the sound. “What is it that you’ve broken _now?_ ”

A young woman peered out from behind the screen that separated the north side of the small cottage from the rest of the house. She was dressed in _very_ little clothing, and looked incredibly sheepish. “Nothing, Mistress. I apologize for the disruption. I was meditating as you instructed, but a fly landed on my arm. It startled me and I knocked over the candlestick.”

 _Mistress._ Triss’ stomach tightened as she realized exactly what this young woman was to her on-again off-again lover: a leashed sorceress, someone who was bound by their master in both body, mind, and magic. It was an experience that only a few were offered while they were attending Aretuza, and Philippa was known to be _very_ selective about her pupils. So it wasn’t surprising that she had one, not really, but it still didn’t sit well with Triss for reasons she would never want to voice out loud.

Philippa did not look amused. “If you were meditating correctly, you would not have felt it. You will do it until you’ve done it _right,_ because I will not instruct you in Oneiromancy until you’ve learned to center yourself. If you do not have control over yourself, many things can go wrong.”

Cynthia lowered her gaze obediently before disappearing behind the screen, intent on trying again. Triss swallowed, trying to wet her dry throat. It did not help.

Triss chose to _clear_ her throat instead before stupidly stating the obvious. “You… have a new leashed sorceress.” She internally winced, realizing a little too late how that sounded.

Philippa, hearing the strange tone in her lover’s voice, rose her eyebrows in expectation. “I do,” she confirmed. Triss averted her eyes and picked absentmindedly at her clothing.

“And... do you…?”

Triss knew what she was asking, yet hated that she even had to; hated that she _cared._ She knew it was ridiculous, considering that she spent most of her time yearning for another. Philippa, it seemed, knew exactly what she was asking without elaboration though. She suddenly looked _very_ amused.

“You accuse me of jealousy, yet look at you now,” she started with a soft laugh. Crossing the room, Philippa sat back down on the edge of her bed, peering up at the woman who stood over her. “You’re asking if I’m training her how I trained _you,_ are you not?”

Triss rolled her eyes defensively, but her mind did flash back to all the times Philippa taught _her_ obedience when she was her leashed sorceress. It was a very long time ago, and yet still, not nearly long enough. “Never mind. It’s not my business.”

“You’re right,” Philippa told her simply. “It is not.”

 _Ouch_.

That hurt more than Triss thought it would, but she tried to keep her expression impassive. She didn’t want Philippa to realize how interwoven she was with her, when she couldn’t even give the woman her emotional loyalty. The whole thing just made Triss feel incredibly foolish, honestly. She shouldn’t _care._

So why did she?

Philippa, however, seemed neither to notice nor care about Triss’ current emotional turmoil; that much was _abundantly_ clear when she held out in her hand in offering again. “Come; I’m growing tired off all this animosity. Let’s make better use of our time together.”

Triss looked at her like she must have gone mental if she honestly believed that that _this_ was an appropriate time to offer to take her to bed, and she emphatically gestured towards the screen on the opposite side of the room. “I am not going to sleep with you while your _pet_ stands obediently by! What the hell do you take me as?”

“Did you suddenly become modest when I wasn’t looking?” Philippa teased, the corners of her lips pulling down into a frown. “How disappointing.”

Triss flushed a little, both in shame and anger. No, she hadn’t – not really. But something about Cynthia rubbed her the wrong way, and honestly… “It’s not just about her. You callously speak of Yen’s death, and then act as though I shouldn’t be bothered by it—!”

“Triss, stop acting like a child; surely you must know the odds. Yennefer was not just some ordinary citizen; even if she were to have amnesia like the witcher, her return would have been noticed by someone.” As Triss exhaled a furious breath, Philippa casually leaned back against her elbows and finished, “Besides, I don’t understand why you ache for her return; surely you know what she’ll do to you once she finds out that you took advantage of the witcher while he was vulnerable.”

“I’m only bedding him so I can find _her!”_ Triss shouted, even though she knew it sounded ridiculous. It was the only plan she had though, and so she held onto the hope regardless. “I thought if I acted like her that he’d remember something and we could _find_ her, but once I realized that wasn’t working, I continued to warm his bed with the hope that _yes,_ she’ll hear about it, and _she’ll_ find _me._ Yennefer’s wrath knows no bounds and although her anger and her hatred would pain me, at least I would know she was alive! At least I would know she was _safe!”_

Philippa looked at her like she had gone stark mad. “You truly are a masochist, aren’t you? You want to fall on your own sword to give Yennefer and the witcher their happily ever after? What is the gain in _that?_ ”

“She deserves to be happy,” Triss told her softly, even though her stomach tightened in knots at the thought, “…even if it’s not with me.”

“Ugh. That is a _disgusting_ sentiment.”

Triss shot her a look. “Despite what you may think of me, Philippa, I’m not a fool. I know I don’t—” But her emotions betrayed her and her voice hitched in the back of her throat. “I know that I don’t… have a chance with her.” It hurt to admit that out loud, but it was the truth. Triss knew that, even if for a while she had refused to accept it. “Even if she comes back, I know that it’s not me that she loves. I’ve accepted that, but just because she will never be mine doesn’t mean I have to stop caring for her or her happiness. I am not that selfish.”

“But _you should be,”_ Philippa stressed as she sat up straighter on the bed, looking at her like she couldn’t make heads or tails of how Triss’ mind worked. “You do not owe Yennefer anything. She may have been a good friend to you, but friendship is fleeting anyhow. You claim that despite what I may believe that you are not a fool, but it seems that I’m the one that is right, because sacrificing your happiness for someone else’s is just plain _foolish_.”

Triss’ chest began to swell up with anger. “Just because you care for no one other than yourself, does not mean that it’s wrong for others to have empathy! You look at me, and I can _see_ how much you believe my emotions weaken me. I can see that they exasperate you, and at times even disgust you. But contrary to what you want people to believe, Phil, you aren’t exactly devoid of emotions either – you merely learned how to hide them better.”

Philippa outright rolled her eyes at that. “You contradicted yourself, darling. Either I care or I do not; choose one.”

“You care,” Triss decided, angrily staring her down. “You just want the whole world to believe that you don’t.”

The older woman just lazily looked back at her, feigning boredom as she idly picked at her nails. “Either way, I still would not sacrifice my happiness for someone else’s, which _was_ the topic of conversation, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Triss scoffed at that, shaking her head. The woman was unbelievable. “And yet here you sit, allowing someone you care very deeply for to run off and look for happiness in all the wrong places because you believe it’s the right thing to do, even if it hurts you.”

It was Philippa’s turn to scoff then, although she did look a little more unbalanced than she did before. “If you honestly believe your silly infatuation with Yennefer _hurts_ me, you do not know me as well as you thought,” she responded, managing to keep her voice relatively steady. “Regardless, I’m certainly not sacrificing _anything_ for your happiness, Triss, because you and I both know that you are not happy.”

“Yeah?” Triss shot back angrily. “Well neither are you.”

For the first time in this conversation, it seemed as though words failed Philippa. It didn’t matter though, because Triss was finished. She couldn’t stay there and continue to argue with her, and she _certainly_ couldn’t keep implying that Philippa should care more, or even try to fight for her affections, because that just wasn’t… it wasn’t _fair._ Triss had only been trying to make a point about Philippa’s supposed lack of empathy, but it had turned into something she should have never started, because she didn’t want to hurt Philippa any more than she already had. She deserved better than that, better than _her._

But then again, maybe everyone did.

**TBC…**

 


	2. PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to unpack in this one, so sorry ahead of time if it gives ya'll emotional whiplash, lmao. Also this story's rating has now changed from M to E cause Triss is a thirsty ho.

**PART II**

“So… tell me how Yen’s doing?”

Triss was surprised her voice did not crack as she sat next to Geralt in that dank warehouse. Although, even if it had, she was certain Geralt would take it the wrong way anyway. Their relationship had run its course, but Triss did not mind. It was not him who she wanted anyhow. He had always been just a means to an end, even if he did not realize it.

Geralt side-eyed her. “How did you know I found her?”

How did she know? Because finding Yennefer had been the only thing on Triss’ mind for the last five long years. How did she _know?_ Because she made a point to. She always made a point when it came to Yennefer, although she doubted Geralt knew that. If he had, they would no doubt be having a different conversation.

Triss purposely deflected the question by accusing him of doing the same thing. “You didn’t answer my question. How’s Yen?”

Geralt hesitated before he answered, as though trying to figure out how to word this so he wouldn’t ‘hurt’ Triss in the process. It said more than actual words ever could. “She’s fine.”

‘She’s _fine’._ ‘She’s his again’, was what that meant. Triss knew she should be happy for her, just happy that she was alive and _safe,_ yet her stomach began to weigh heavy with a sorrow she could not name. It twisted and burned up her esophagus, threatening to choke the breath from her lungs as Triss struggled to say something, _anything._

“…That’s good.”

Geralt side-eyed her once more, and Triss was really beginning to not like that look. It seemed an awful lot like pity, which made her feel about an inch tall. “Asking about anything specific?”

Yes, but Geralt already knew that. He may not know the real question, but he knew that Triss had one.

“Never mind,” Triss sighed softly, averting her gaze to stare out the dirty window of the warehouse. “I got my answer.”

[x]

Triss watched her portal fade after she and Philippa had stepped through it. The situation with Dijkstra certainly didn’t go as smoothly as she and Geralt had hoped, but Philippa was safe; at least for the time being. Radovid still wanted her dead, but considering Dijkstra was planning to assassinate him with Geralt’s help, Triss knew the likelihood of that continuing to be problematic was very low.

“Where are we?” Philippa asked her, getting straight to the point. It had been months since they had seen one another, since Radovid had cruelly blinded her and she fled from Loc Muinne, and all Triss could do now was stare at the blindfold over the other woman’s eyes and ache inside. She had heard the story from Geralt, but seeing it for herself, seeing her like _this…_ it was somehow so much worse. Triss could not even imagine what she must have gone through, and the violent urge to enact vengeance on behalf of the other woman suddenly coursed through Triss like a raging fire.

She tried to control it, yet all she managed to do was allow it to burn through her until she was left with nothing but devastation as she looked at the woman in front of her, hating that she would never be caught in her piercing gaze again. Philippa once had beautiful eyes; they were like two black pearls that reflected the night sky, and Triss had often found herself getting lost in them.

Not now though. Not anymore.

Triss felt sick.

“Uh. My safehouse,” she stumbled, trying to hide the fact that she was emotional over seeing her again, considering Philippa seemed to be allergic to anything resembling human emotions. “In—in Novigrad.”

“You’re nervous,” Philippa noted, her tone holding a hint of surprise. Turning to face the sound of the other woman’s voice, she questioned, “Do you no longer trust me?”

“What?” Triss asked, genuinely surprised by the question, even though there was a small part of her that wished to point out that the last time they spoke, it was _Philippa_ who no longer trusted _her_. “No, of course that’s not—I just. It’s been… a long time.” She fidgeted a little, then bit lightly on her tongue. “You… how are you?”

“ _Fine,_ all things considered; although being trapped as a bloody owl for months was _not_ fun, I assure you,” Philippa answered a little defensively. Her brow squinted around her blindfold and suddenly she asked, “Why are you _fidgeting?_ ”

Triss’ brow rose. “You can see—? Oh,” she realized, feeling a little foolish for not realizing. “Magic, of course.”

“Obviously, but it is rather draining, so I’d rather you not force me to use it too often. What’s wrong? You’re acting strangely and considering that there are quite a few people out there who wish to see me _dead,_ I am not enjoying this unexpected shift in your mannerisms.”

Offense and shock at the mere suggestion hit Triss at full force. “You honestly think--? I would _never_ betray you like that; I can’t believe you’d even consider it!”

“Well then tell me why you’re acting like this and perhaps I’ll believe you!”

Losing her sight, it seemed, had caused Philippa to become more paranoid. She used to be so certain of herself, so sure of everything that was going on, yet now it seemed that she no longer trusted her own instincts.

“I just—!” Triss began, feeling frustrated and emotional. It began to overwhelm her, and tears sprung to the back of her eyes as she reached out, her hand falling short of the other woman’s blindfold. It hovered in the air for a moment, this look of utter devastation crossing Triss’ face before she allowed her hand to fall back to her side. “I hate seeing you like this,” she breathed sadly. “And I know that you don’t want me to get all _emotional_ over it, so I tried to just—but I… I _can’t._ ”

Philippa suddenly looked very uncomfortable, so of course she immediately dismissed the conversation. “My eyes are of no matter to you, and will be a nonfactor soon anyhow. I suggest you don’t get yourself all worked up over it.”

Triss exhaled an exasperated breath. She hated when Philippa dismissed her like that. “Yes, Heaven forbid I _give a shit.”_

“Do you?”

Triss looked at her in surprise, her hand clutching her chest. “Of _course_ I do. How can you ask me that?”

Philippa did not answer, and her expression gave nothing away. Instead, she circled back to the situation with her eyes. “Regardless, I do not plan to be blind forever, so to weep about it now will only prove pointless.”

_Pointless._ Right.

Triss sniffed back her tears, wiping at the underside of her eyes. If Philippa didn’t want her to cry, didn’t want her to care, then _fine._ “I know what you plan to do, Phil, and it’s _dangerous._ Vilgefortz barely managed it himself!”

“Vilgefortz is not _me,”_ Philippa reminded her, standing tall as pride over her own abilities flooded her. “And I didn’t follow you here to listen to a lecture, so spare me.”

Triss shook her head, the center of her chest beginning to feel hollow. Philippa was dismissing her at every turn, and she didn’t understand _why._

Philippa found a chair with absolutely no difficulty and Triss watched her sit down in it as though it were a throne. Her arms lightly rested on the arm rests; one leg crossed over the other. “I hear Yennefer is alive.”

Triss’ stomach twisted in her gut. “…Yes.”

“I bet you two had a _fabulous_ reunion; that is, if she decided not to kill you for jumping on Geralt’s cock the moment she was assumed dead. But it’s not as though something like that is out of character for you, is it? I have to say, for someone who claims that they are in love with her, you certainly spend a disproportionate amount of your time making her feel inadequate.”

Okay, _that_ hurt. Yes, she had made some mistakes involving Geralt, but her aim was never to hurt Yennefer. Triss suddenly did not like this conversation very much, and she _certainly_ did not like the tone that Philippa held when she initiated it. She sounded _angry_ with her.

“I… I haven’t seen her yet,” was all that Triss managed to say, feeling awfully guilty for some reason. Didn’t Philippa always say that she didn’t care? That they were not exclusive and that they never would be because ‘emotions made people weak’? Yes, they both got a little jealous the last time that they saw one another, but since Triss knew that a relationship would never be something that Philippa wanted - as she had been _very_ clear the last time they toed an emotional line - Triss didn’t think much more of it.

Besides, it wasn’t like Triss had _enjoyed_ the fact that Philippa was fucking her leashed sorceress, but she wasn’t a bitch about it either when she found out. And this? This was… this was _bitchy._ And she wasn’t even fucking Yennefer!

“Oh? How surprising; I would have thought you’d have nearly _tripped_ over yourself in order to get to her as fast as you possibly could.”

Why? So she could see her and Geralt be happy and in love? No, thank you. She would rather prolong that heartbreak as long as possible.

“I have other responsibilities here. The mages and—and why are you acting like I’ve done you some great _wrong?”_ Triss demanded, feeling attacked. “Last I checked, I wasn’t the one fucking someone else!”

Philippa outright laughed at that. “If you actually expect monogamy from sorceresses, pet, I regret to inform you that you will _continuously_ be disappointed. We are not built for such nonsense.”

Triss’ chest weighed heavy with confusion and upset. She had missed Philippa terribly, yet when they were finally reunited, it was as though Philippa could not stand to be in the same room with her anymore. “Then why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything; this has nothing to do with you and I,” Philippa insisted, despite every other indication pointing to the contrary. “I simply have too much to do and your incessant need to vomit your feelings all over me is growing taxing. There are more important things to do right now, Triss. I aim to reform the Lodge, and I need you to—”

“ _Fuck_ the Lodge,” Triss interrupted scathingly, Philippa’s words having dug a hole straight through her chest. Triss’ eyes stung with furious tears, her breathing growing shallow as she stared at the woman across from her. “And fuck you too.”

If Philippa could roll her eyes, Triss was certain she would be doing it right now. The exasperation was present in her tone though when she said, “Triss, stop acting like a child—”

“No! You don’t get to call me childish! I might be considerably younger than you, but I am _not_ infantile, and you need to stop dismissing me as such; I am a _woman,_ damnit!” Triss shouted at her, her emotions getting the better of her. “I am a full-grown woman and a more-than-competent sorceress and if you can’t respect me as such then maybe we really are done here!”

Philippa scoffed. “Oh, don’t be so—”

But Triss wouldn’t let her say anything. Everything inside of her felt as though it were bursting to get out, and the longer she kept it in, the more it devoured her from the inside. “And maybe I am an asshole, okay?” she shouted. “Maybe I’m awful for loving her but wanting _you,_ but I tried to hide it from you because I knew it wasn’t fair and you— _you_ are the one who brought it up! You’re the one who dragged it out of me and made it a problem when chances are it eventually would have died with the memory of her, or I’d find my closure some other way. She might be alive, but she will never want me, so just let me—let me get over her at my own pace, alright?! It’s not a competition, and even if it was, you’ve made it _very_ clear you wouldn’t want what you’d end up with if you ‘won’, so I don’t understand why you even _care!_ ”

Triss’ chest was heaving with emotion, her cheeks blotched and red. She stared at Philippa, who suddenly looked considerably stiffer in that chair. “…I _don’t_ care,” she finally told her, and something inside of Triss broke at those words. Suddenly the righteous anger that was holding her up disappeared, leaving her to fall to her haunches, her clasped hands falling over her face. She couldn’t keep doing this with her, she _couldn’t._

Even if it was nothing more than a defense mechanism, it _hurt._

Philippa shifted uncomfortably in her chair, yet kept her head held high. “You overestimate your importance. I told you why I was acting the way I was; there is no need to embellish it to further the drama in your life. I care about you, Triss, but I have little in the way of patience for such things. Now, are we to discuss your position with the Lodge or not?”

Triss’ voice hitched in the back of her throat as she began crying without any hope of controlling it. It seemed like something flickered across Philippa’s expression once she heard it, but it was gone as soon as it came. Triss’ vision blurred as she stood, taking a step back from the one person she used to always run to.

“No,” she struggled to say through her tears, knowing that she probably just lost something that had always held great importance to her. “…We’re not.”

[x]

When Triss received Yennefer’s invitation to join her at Kaer Morhen, she almost threw up.

It took nearly an hour of trying to collect herself before she was able to open a portal, and even then Triss looked _awfully_ pale. So many emotions were running through her; anticipation, happiness, absolute, mind-numbing fear. Triss had no idea how Yennefer would react to her, as she no doubt knew the history between her and Geralt now. But it wasn’t like she could just _not_ go. They needed her; _Ciri_ needed her.

And so she went.

The portal opened in the courtyard of Kaer Morhen, and Triss tried to keep herself steady as she walked through it. Her heart was pounding in her throat and with another wave of her hand, the portal disappeared behind her. Vesemir looked up from sharpening his sword, inclining his head in greeting.

“Ah, Triss. Yennefer told us we should be expecting you.”

“Hello, Vesemir,” Triss greeted politely before her gaze anxiously flickered around the courtyard, half-expecting Yennefer to appear from the bushes brandishing a knife. Vesemir, however, assuming she was _looking_ for her instead of wishing she could hide from her, nodded his head towards the tallest tower as he slid a grinding stone down her blade.

“She’s in the observatory, if you wish to inform her of your arrival.”

“Right. Of course. I’ll—yes. I’ll find her,” Triss responded, knowing she sounded absolutely foolish and yet not knowing how to stop herself. She was half-certain that she was going to throw up before she even made it to the door. But before she moved towards the castle her eyes suddenly landed on what looked like the remnants of a bed. Her gaze rose higher, and Triss saw one of the windows were broken, as though the entire thing got forcefully thrown from it.

What was worse, was that Triss _knew_ what room it had come from.

She pitched forward, her hands clutching her knees as she tightly shut her eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Vesemir chuckled softly once he realized what Triss had seen. Triss wanted to shout at him and tell him that this certainly was not _funny,_ but she was too busy trying not to empty the contents of her stomach all over the courtyard. “The worst of it has been over for awhile now,” Vesemir assured her, his words being accented with each stroke of the stone against his blade. “And she knows that we need you. She was the one who invited you, after all.”

“Yeah, to _murder_ me,” Triss mumbled before she focused her breathing; in through her nose, out through her mouth. It began to get her nausea under control, and finally she could hold herself upright.

“You made a mistake,” Vesemir reminded her, which was such a vast understatement Triss didn’t even know _where_ to begin. “Own it; do not run from it. She will be more open to offering forgiveness that way.”

“Do you _know_ Yennefer?” Triss shot back, not believing his words for a second. Yennefer could be _very_ unforgiving sometimes, and this wasn’t exactly the first time that she had done something like this to her. She no doubt ran out of chances a long time ago.

“Do you?” Vesemir countered, one eyebrow rising in challenge. “After all, it has been a very long time. People change. Grow.”

“Get stronger. Flay the flesh from my bones. You know, _whatever_ ,” Triss said beneath her breath before she pinched the bridge of her nose. She needed to get it together; whatever was going to happen now, Vesemir was right about one thing – she couldn’t run from it.

But it seemed she wouldn’t get the chance to anyway.

“Triss!”

Triss looked up in surprise to see Yennefer exiting the castle, nearly taking the steps two at a time to get to her. The younger woman froze, unable to move or even speak as she stared at Yennefer as though she were a hallucination. She was _beautiful_ , but more than that, she didn’t look infuriated by her presence; if anything, she looked quite the opposite, and Triss had no idea how to take that.

“I thought I felt your magic,” Yennefer greeted before she did something Triss never would have thought would happen in a million years, and wrapped her up into a hug. Triss could barely move she was so shocked, yet somehow she managed to get her arms around her, staring past her like she was almost certain now that she was dreaming.

When Yennefer broke the embrace, Triss could see Vesemir out of the corner of his eye looking amused by the blatant expression of _shock_ on her face. “Did you get here alright?” Yennefer asked, before she too seemed to realize Triss was a bit broken, and her brow knit. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing, I just—” Triss tried, but she still seemed to be a bit stuck. Her gaze moved past Yennefer to the broken bed outside, and the other woman followed her line of sight.

“Ah,” she realized. She almost looked _amused_ by her friend’s reaction, and she noted, “You’re rather terrified of me right now, aren’t you?” Her tone said _you should be_ but her expression said _you’re overreacting,_ and it gave Triss emotional whiplash.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to bite your head off. I’ve grown weary of fighting over him,” Yennefer told her, which was so… _unlike_ her that Triss didn’t know how to process it. “But do not think you’ve gotten off easily,” she told her in a sterner voice and finally, she sounded like herself again. Triss exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, finding a strange comfort in knowing that the other shoe would drop eventually. “We _will_ speak of this when the time is right and I _do_ expect you to grovel for my forgiveness, but for now, I’m just glad to see a dear friend again after so long. Shall we go inside? We have many preparations to make before everyone else arrives.”

“I… yes, of course,” Triss responded, although with how she was feeling, Yennefer could have told her to throw herself in the swamp and choke on a frog and she probably would have done what she asked without hesitation.

Yennefer took her hand then, leading her towards the castle with a smile, and suddenly Triss felt as though she couldn’t breathe. It had been five years, five _damn_ years since she had seen Yennefer, and it hardly felt real. The raven-haired sorceress looked exactly as she remembered, yet Triss could feel there was something different about her. Maybe Vesemir was right; maybe people did change. Maybe it was only Triss who felt stuck.

Because seeing Yennefer again was like being slapped in the face with the past. All these old feelings began rushing to the surface again, causing Triss’ cheeks to darken in embarrassment as she tried not to stare so blatantly as she was led up the stairs. But just as those feelings returned, so did her insecurities. She was not good enough for Yennefer and even if she was, she would most certainly choose Geralt over her regardless, and so there was this huge part of Triss that ached to just get some real closure so she could just move on, and possibly find some happiness.

The problem was though, was that this was all she had now. Whatever she had had with Philippa had been shattered due to her own _stupid_ obsession with the woman who was now leading her up to her observatory.  Triss felt utterly and completely alone, and in order to not feel hollow she held onto her feelings for Yennefer with both hands, hoping that it would fill the hole that Philippa left behind when she walked away from her.

It was that _stupid_ feeling that caused Triss to practically blurt out of nowhere, “You look beautiful, Yenna.”

Yennefer turned around, looking a little surprised by the outburst before the corners of her mouth turned up into an amused smirk. It was like she thought she was nothing more than an adorable child, and Triss’ cheeks burned a deeper red as she realized that she would really never be on equal footing with the older sorceress.

“Thank you, dear.”

Triss wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

 [x]

Night fell in Kaer Morhen and Triss found herself in bed, incapable of sleeping. She was still unable to wrap her head around how _easy_ it was, being around Yennefer again. Even though the woman had every reason to despise her, she… she _didn’t._ And maybe that was because she had spent a disproportion amount of her life before being worried about every woman who found themselves around Geralt, and now she either did not care, or realized that she had Geralt so tightly wrapped around her finger now that she no longer needed to worry, but she was… fuck, honestly? She was the person Triss fell in love with so many years ago.

And that _sucked._

Triss wished Yennefer would scream at her. Hate her. Tell her that she would never forgive her for what she did with Geralt behind her back, because then it would be easier to move on. She didn’t want to lose Yennefer’s friendship, but she also didn’t want to be hurt because she was continuously yearning for something that was forever unattainable.

But the thing was that it hadn’t been, once. A long time ago, before Geralt; before Triss had even left Aretuza, before she had finished her studies and became a full-fledged sorceress. Yennefer was not there often, but when she was, it seemed she had taken a special liking to Triss. She was always helping her with her studies, or enjoying a bit of light discourse with her over glasses filled with Toussaint’s finest wine.

At first, Triss thought Yennefer merely saw her as a little sister, and perhaps she had – still _did,_ to some degree – despite what had happened between them. Their relationship with one another – along with Geralt and Ciri – had always been a little weirdly incestuous. Philippa had made sure to mention _that_ more than a handful of times and although it embarrassed Triss, she couldn’t help but feel like on some level, that Philippa was right.

It _was_ a mess. It still was, and Triss had no idea what her place in all of it was anymore.

She could still remember as clear as day how it happened though. They were enjoying a glass of wine in one of the private libraries, taking about this, that, and everything in between, when suddenly Yennefer mentioned something that Triss was not expecting, for she had expected an altogether different outcome.

 

_“I hear Philippa Eilhart is considering taking you on as a leashed sorceress.”_

_Triss blinked back her surprise, the wine glass hanging in the air just above her lips. This was the first she had heard of such a thing. “What? She— she is?” She had never even spoken to Philippa before; at least not directly. The woman had lectured once about Polymorphism and while she was brilliant and absolutely_ terrifying, _Triss wasn’t certain what a sorceress like that would see in_ her. _It wasn’t like she was anything special._

_Besides, she had been hoping that someone_ else _would have been considering such a thing, and she was a little disappointed that that did not seem to be the case._

_Yennefer took a slow sip of her wine, watching the expression change on Triss’ face. “I’d have thought you’d be happier. Philippa doesn’t just take on anyone, you know. She only reserves her time for the best – you should be flattered that’s she’s even considering it.”_

_“I thought you didn’t like her.” Because Yennefer had made it no secret when she was upset, and apparently Philippa was able to push her buttons better than most._

_“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean that I’m unable to recognize what a great opportunity this would be for you,” Yennefer reasoned. “Philippa may be irritatingly arrogant, but she is very skilled. You could learn a lot from her.”_

_Triss pursed her lips._

_“What is it?”_

_“Nothing. I mean—” Triss fidgeted in her seat, both of her hands wrapped around her stemless wine glass as she stared at the contents inside. “I know Philippa is talented, and I know that if she’s interested in me then that means that maybe I’m not_ barely _above adequate like I thought, but I guess I just—I mean, you and I, we’ve gotten so close, so I just assumed…”_

_“Oh,” Yennefer realized, understanding what the problem was now. She smiled patiently at her. “Triss, I am very fond of you, but I’m not one to take on a leashed sorceress. Other than not having the bloody time for it, I also don’t need that kind of ego boost. Philippa, on the other hand, is someone that enjoys getting her arse kissed, and considering you are_ quite _the people-pleaser yourself in what I’m sure are_ _more ways than one, you might actually make a fairly decent match.”_

_Triss’ mouth dropped open in quasi-offense. Part of her knew it to be true, but the other part didn’t enjoy being called out like that either. “Are you calling me subservient?”_

_Yennefer smirked, her cheeks flushed from the wine. “Are you trying to convince me that you’re not?”_

_Triss blushed a furious crimson, her gaze falling to the floor. Yennefer chuckled, swirling the contents of her glass for a moment, pondering something._

_“Have you ever been with a woman, Triss?”_

_Something hot burned in the pit of the younger woman’s stomach at the question, and she shifted a bit in her seat before she silently shook her head, admitting that she had not. And it wasn’t as though she wasn’t curious or anything, but the opportunity had never presented itself to her._

_“If she chooses you, Philippa will no doubt try to seduce you,” Yennefer informed her, keeping careful note of the reaction she was getting. “She enjoys having her pupils being utterly devoted to her, whether in academics or in bed. She gets a power trip from it, I’m sure; like every other exaggerated thing that she does.”_

_Triss swallowed, feeling a rush of excitement course through her at the thought. Philippa may terrify her a little bit, but she was_ incredibly _attractive. The thought of a woman like that wanting_ her…

_Yennefer smirked, taking another sip of wine. “I see you’re not averse to the idea.”_

_Triss flushed once more, terribly embarrassed that her expression gave her away. How wanton and virginal she must look right now, despite the fact that she had been with more men that she could count. Women though… women were different._

_Triss looked up at the other woman from beneath her lashes, gently chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to form words; something,_ anything… _but it was then that Triss realized that Yennefer’s expression had changed. She was staring at her lips in a way that made Triss_ ache _inside, and the younger woman suddenly realized that, apparently, Philippa was_ _not_ _the only one who enjoyed when others were subservient._

_A fresh wave of excitement coursed through her, but this time, it was for someone who she considered to be a dear friend. Triss had never contemplated the idea of Yennefer as a lover, but because of the look on the other woman’s face it was almost instinctual to start playing up her vulnerabilities – acting shyly flirtatious as she blushed again and looked down._

_Yennefer placed her glass of wine on the table next to her, her voice having gotten noticeably deeper. “You don’t have to play coy, Triss. I know what you’re doing.”_

_Triss wanted to ask, ‘_ and what about what you’re doing’, _because she was the one who brought up being with a woman,_ she _was the one who was looking at her like she’d suddenly want nothing more than to rip her apart and claim her for her own, but at the end of the day, they both knew Triss would never have the stones to voice such an accusation out loud. So instead she stayed quiet until Yennefer finally instructed her with,_

_“Come here.”_

_Triss’ breathing shallowed, her heart beginning to pound heavily beneath her ribcage. Suddenly she was_ very _nervous, and because of that she noticeably hesitated._

_“Don’t make me repeat myself.”_

_Triss stood faster than she thought she ever had in her life. She nearly tripped over herself in the process, making her cheeks flare bright red again as the corners of Yennefer’s mouth quirked upwards in amusement. She crossed the distance between them, but once she got to the chair that Yennefer was sitting in, she didn’t quite know what to do. So she just stood there silently. Awkwardly._

_Yennefer allowed the silence to stretch on for_ much _too long, no doubt amusing herself with how nervous it was making her. Finally, she said, “You honestly don’t expect me to sit here and look up at you, do you?”_

_Triss’ breath caught in her throat, her mind going a million miles an hour as she tried to figure out what the hell the right thing to do in this situation was. Was Yennefer supposed to stand? Was she supposed to get another chair? Was she—_

_“Triss.”_

_Triss looked at the other woman, panic evident in her eyes. She had no idea what she was supposed to do! But it seemed Yennefer realized that, so she subtly inclined her eyes from Triss to the floor. Suddenly, Triss understood, and she blushed again for the umpteenth time over being so bloody_ stupid _before she crouched down, falling to her knees. The position made her feel so utterly subservient that it caused a fierce heat to course through her body, dilating her pupils and shallowing her breath. Yennefer smiled, settling back in her chair as she looked down at the woman before her._

_“Tell me what you want, and perhaps I’ll see it done.”_

_Triss couldn’t even look at her. She was_ uncomfortably _wet, to the point that she actually feared that Yennefer could smell her. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, embarrassed to voice what it was that she desired, even though it was probably foolish to fear at this point that Yennefer might_ not _give it to her. At some point, she would no doubt tire from playing with her food, and would eventually devour her whole._

“Speak.”

_“—Teach me,” was the only thing Triss could blurt out, internally wincing at how stupid that sounded. Yennefer however, merely quirked an eyebrow._

_“Teach you how to please a woman?”_

_“…Yes,” Triss breathed, finally allowing herself to look up at the woman sprawled out in the chair before her. She was radiant, domineering,_ beautiful. _She smirked then, this expression that just screamed,_ I own you, _and Triss noticeably shivered in anticipation, not realizing how badly she needed this to happen until she was practically begging for it._

_But ‘practically’ it seemed, was not good enough for Yennefer of Vengerberg._

_“…Only if you ask nicely.”_

Triss closed her eyes at the memory, feeling the same familiar heat begin to course through her veins. Oh, she _begged_ Yennefer after that. She begged shamelessly. She begged for the most filthy things because Yennefer wanted to see just how far she could push her, until finally she got what she asked for and she had supple thighs wrapped around her neck and a face-full of one of her closest friends.

The sun was starting to rise and Triss couldn’t believe how little sleep she had gotten, but in all honestly, that fact was of little importance right then. She was too caught up in her memories and before she knew it, she was throwing the covers from her, feeling as though she might burn alive if she did not get some relief. Her nightdress was unceremoniously hiked up, her knickers were tossed to the other side of the room, and once her fingers finally slipped through her own slick heat Triss sighed loudly, allowing her mind to wander back to what had happened all those years ago.

 

_She had pleased her well, albeit with explicit instruction. Still, it seemed Yennefer wished to reward her for her service and suddenly Triss found herself being bent over one of the desks in the library, the litter of books that were once strewn atop it being pushed brusquely onto floor. She was already stripped nude, as Yennefer had wanted something pretty to look at while she was getting fucked, and Yennefer quickly smacked the inside of Triss’ thigh, silently encouraging her to widen her stance. The younger woman did as instructed._

_“Don’t turn around.”_

_Triss could feel herself literally_ dripping _down her thighs, and all she could do in response was whimper and bury her head in her hands. This was… this was_ so _much more than she was ever expecting, but she certainly was not complaining. Perhaps Yennefer was just doing this this way to prepare her for Philippa, as she had made a point to tell her that the other sorceress enjoyed having her pupils being utterly devoted to her, both academically_ and _in the bedroom. But perhaps this was also just how_ Yennefer _liked things and honestly, Triss did not care to ask which one it was, for she reaped the benefits either way._

_She felt Yennefer return by a gentle touch on her hip. Triss shuddered, bending over as far as she could against the desk, practically_ presenting _herself to her like some kind of wanton whore because she needed it._ She needed it. _She needed it_ now _or she was certain that she might burst_.

_And then she felt it._

_A thick phallus gently teased between her thighs, and Triss exhaled a desperate moan. She tried to push herself back towards it, but Yennefer’s fingers dug into her hip hard enough to bruise, stilling Triss in her tracks._

_“If you want it,_ beg for it _.”_

_“_ Please,” _Triss groaned desperately. “Please, Yen, you_ must _see how wet I am for you. Please.” Gone was her shame, her timid vulnerabilities. Now, all Triss was was a mess of desire and need, and they both knew she would do damn near anything to get relief from the one person who held it in the palm of her hand._

_Thankfully, Yennefer was feeling forgiving. The cock slid inside of her with little resistance and Triss pitched forward, exhaling a deep moan as she felt it fill her. “_ Yes, _oh… oh, Yen…” But it seemed as though this wouldn’t be as easy as Triss had hoped, as suddenly Yennefer had a fist-full of her hair, pulling her upwards so that her back was flush to the older woman’s breasts. Triss gasped sharply._

_“I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’.”_

_“Thank you…!” Triss exhaled urgently, not wishing for Yennefer to take it away from her once she had finally gotten what she desires. “Thank you—Yenna, thank you…!” But her words began to fall away to desperate moans and grunts as Yennefer kept a firm hold on her, beginning to pound mercilessly inside of her. Triss still tried to thank her though, tried to say anything and everything she wanted as Yennefer absolutely destroyed her, but all she was reduced to in the end was a sobbing, incoherent mess as she was given the most intense orgasm that she had ever had in her life._

 

Triss pressed harder against her clit and hissed in pleasure, squirming beneath her own hand. Yes, Yennefer had easily given her the most amazing orgasm of her entire life back then, but she had lived for much longer now. And as her pleasure began to build deep in her gut, Triss’ mind began to wander to a time just after Philippa had unleashed her, and suddenly Triss wasn’t just fucking herself to the thought of Yennefer anymore, but to the woman she foolishly threw away in favor of a unobtainable fantasy.

Because fantasies were all she had now, weren’t they? Them, and her own right hand.

_“I… I can’t—!”_

_“You can, and you will,” Philippa breathed against her lips, gently coaxing an eagle-bound Triss towards another orgasm. She wasn’t atop her anymore, wasn’t commanding her or acting like the owner that Triss had always known her to be though; perhaps because it had been many hours since they began this and Philippa had grown weary of the games she often liked to play, or perhaps it was something else altogether. Regardless, the woman was now flush to Triss’ side, one leg thrown haphazardly over her captive’s while she watched the fruits of her labor with interest._

_Triss was panting heavily as Philippa carefully began edging her, causing the young woman’s breathing to become uneven and loud. Her chest had flushed a deep crimson, and beads of sweat littered her forehead. She pulled helplessly at her bindings and whimpered as Philippa’s fingers twisted inside of her. The woman knew what she was doing; of that, there was no doubt. Yennefer might have taught Triss some things, but she had been a leashed sorceress to Philippa for over four years before she was released and the things Philippa had taught her were beyond anything she had ever fathomed before._

_Triss loved her. She loved her as a mentor, she loved her as her mistress. She loved her like a pet loved their attentive owner, and as she looked up at the woman who had both broken her and put her back together again to make her stronger, smarter,_ better, _her lips parted and she exhaled a throaty, “—Please, Mistress.”_

_It was the only name that Triss knew her by. So much in fact, that in order to not slip up in front of colleagues Triss took to never talking to, nor referring to Philippa directly, since she had become unleashed. It amused Philippa to no end, but it was no doubt a sign of good training, at the very least. That, and they never stopped fucking once Triss became unbound to her, which was apparently a rather unorthodox thing for Philippa to do anyway._

_“Please what, my pet?”_

_Triss swallowed, her chest heaving as she looked up at her, feeling incredibly vulnerable in that moment for some reason. “…Let me touch you.”_

_Philippa was silent. Triss thought that perhaps she had asked for too much, but then the other woman glanced at the bounds that held her tight to the bed and with a wave of her own, released Triss from all four of them. Triss was, at_ best, _expecting to only be released from just one of them, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She immediately grasped for the woman on top of her, crashing their lips together in a fierce kiss._

_Philippa twisted her fingers inside of her again and Triss whimpered, grasping the other woman’s face once they parted from their kiss. She could feel Philippa’s breath on her lips and as she began to climb that torturous ascent, she caught the other woman’s piercing gaze and said something she had never uttered before in her life._

_“Phil…”_

_For a moment, Triss was certain that Philippa would reprimand her for her use of not just her name, but a_ nickname. _But she didn’t. Instead Triss watched the woman atop her inhale an unsteady breath before it was her turn to close the distance between them, kissing Triss with more passion than the younger woman believed she had ever felt from Philippa before._

_And it_ did _something to her._

_Suddenly, a barrier had been broken and Triss was no longer her compliant subservient, but a partner with equal passion as she grasped for the woman above her, pressing their breasts together and digging her nails into her back. Philippa bit down on her bottom lip and Triss moaned deeply, one of her hands finding its way between them to touch her lover how she herself were being touched._

_Sliding her fingers through Philippa’s slick heat made the woman hiss in pleasure, her forehead dropping to rest against Triss’. The younger woman’s pupils dilated and, suddenly feeling emboldened, allowed her free hand to tangle in Philippa’s hair. But before she could pull her down towards her, Philippa reached out with_ her _free hand and placed it just below Triss’ throat. A warning._

_“Don’t get cocky.”_

_But it was said in a tone that made Triss smile as she looked up at her, seeing the woman’s beautiful locks frame her angular face. “I won’t,” she promised her softly, gently untangling her hand from the other woman’s hair. She touched her face then, softly tracing the other woman’s bottom lip with her thumb until_ she _was one to coax a smile from_ Philippa _and then…_

_And then they both realized that they were suddenly treading a line that they should have never, ever gone near, and everything fell apart._

_It was strange, how someone could feel so comfortable and_ safe _one moment, to absolutely terrified the next because_ what the hell were they doing? _But perhaps it was just the fact that they had been fucking for the better part of the last couple of hours, so of_ course _things were bound to get intense and emotional. Regardless, it seemed neither women were ready for whatever may or may not have been developing, and suddenly Triss was grasping onto the hand that was just beneath her throat, encouraging Philippa to_ actually _choke her._

_And Philippa complied without hesitation, because she wanted nothing to do with this nonsense either._

 

After that, Triss was allowed to call her by her given name, however they _never_ got that close again. Triss had wanted to once, had thought that perhaps getting closer to Philippa would help her get over Yennefer, but Philippa was having none of it. It seemed that the second she felt anything more than just desire she shut completely down, and so Triss continued to be kept at arm’s length, which was probably fair anyway, considering that she felt strongly for another.

But oh, that _orgasm._ Maybe it was the adrenaline from the fear they were both having, or perhaps it was the way Philippa choked the breath from her lungs the moment she felt she was coming, but that woman made her see _stars._ And as Triss furiously rubbed against her clit now she tossed her head to the side, bit the pillow, and thought of _her._

And that was how she finished herself off; realizing that perhaps she had been focused on the wrong thing all this time because that? That _moment?_  That meant at one time Philippa actually _did_ care for her, despite her insistence otherwise. That moment meant that Triss was actually capable of seeing only her, when she had believed for so long that everything she did with Philippa would be tainted by her infatuation with Yennefer. But it wasn’t. They both might top her, but at the end of the day, they were two _very_ different people, and Triss had only touched one of them like they were worth more than what their body could give them.

And it hadn’t been Yennefer.

Triss was off the bed faster than she probably should have, and almost stumbled when she found that her legs were wobbly. After steading herself, Triss grabbed her knickers off the floor and slipped them on, followed by some actual pants. She needed to call Philippa via the megascope in the observatory, and she needed to do it before everyone got there and everything became too crazy.

And honestly, she knew Philippa would probably just curse at her, or worse, outright _ignore_ her, but she had to try. Triss just felt like this giant idiot all of a sudden, and in her desperate need to just _fix it,_ she hadn’t noticed that she put her shirt on backwards as she ran out of her room… and straight into Yennefer.

_“Did you feel it too?”_ Yennefer asked without even a word of greeting. She looked torn between being excited and terribly anxious, and Triss blinked, not realizing what it was the other woman was talking about until she took a minute to get out of her own head, and actually become aware of her surroundings.

And then she felt it.

Triss’ gaze met Yennefer’s, and as they both realized what it was that caused a strange surge of magic to surround Kaer Morhen, they both uttered in surprised unison:

“Ciri.”

**TBC…**


	3. PART III

**PART III**

Unfortunately, realizing that she had made a mistake when it came to Philippa did not, by any means, lessen how awful it felt to watch Yennefer and Geralt reunite.

They were all over one another and Triss, knowing that she _desperately_ needed some air, excused herself to sit out in the courtyard. She just needed to clear her head a little before she called Philippa, because the last thing she needed on her mind when she was trying to rectify her mistakes with her was the woman who had caused her to make them all in the first place. Even though Philippa was an _ass_ who would rather make Triss cry than admit that she might have some actual human emotions herself, Triss could not deny that the woman deserved better than that. And maybe, if Triss finally gave it to her, things would get back to normal. _Better_ than normal, even.

Triss’ heart ached terribly though as she sat on the stone wall, her heels lightly bouncing off the surface beneath her as she stared at the grass below. She was trying to rationalize her feelings so she could just push whatever she felt for Yennefer aside because it was _pointless_ and it _didn’t matter_ and if _she didn’t talk to Phil soon, things might only get worse between them_ , but it was more difficult than she would have imagined to just toss decade’s worth of unrequited pining aside like that. 

_—Decades?_ Had it truly been…? No, perhaps it had not. It had been decades since she and Yennefer first slept together, but that wasn’t when Triss fell in love with her. Admittedly, she _did_ have a bit of a crush on her after that experience – because after something like that, who _wouldn’t –_ but it wasn’t anything serious. That came later. Gradually, yet at the same time, all at once. It was something Triss hadn’t realized was happening until it had already come to pass, and then when she realized why she was acting the way she was, it felt like it all hit her full force in the chest.

But then again, Triss had never been great at recognizing and accepting her own feelings. She was a bit like Philippa in that way, only without all the angry denial. Triss was… well, she was just _oblivious_ sometimes. It was a bit embarrassing, but there it was; most of the time, she didn’t even know how she felt about someone until it was much, much too late.

And for a moment there she almost, _almost_ realized that maybe she wasn’t exactly being honest with herself when it came to her feelings about Philippa either, but unfortunately, that thought was interrupted by another person plopping down beside her on the wall, jerking Triss from her thoughts.

“Ciri!” she exclaimed in surprise, seeing the girl – no, she was a woman now, wasn’t she? – come from out of nowhere. But that was dangerous, because the more she used her powers to displace herself in time – even as far as a few feet – the easier she could be tracked. “You shouldn’t be using your abilities right now! The Wild Hunt—”

“I didn’t,” Ciri assured her as she looked over at her friend. Her sister. “I think you were just lost in thought. I did try to announce myself.” She peered at Triss then, her brow furrowing before she told her, “You know, you don’t have to hide out here.”

“I’m not _hiding,”_ Triss denied, although she probably did not sound very convincing. She wouldn’t even look at Ciri when she said it. _“_ I’m just waiting for Geralt to call council. I’m sure it’ll be any minute now.”

Ciri said nothing for a moment. She just leaned back on her palms, _looking_ at her.

Triss shifted uncomfortably, feeling the other woman’s eyes on her. “…Please stop staring at me like that.”

But Ciri, having been everywhere and nowhere, had both seen it all and knew too much, just pulled the corners of her lips down into a frown _._ “I’m sorry that this reunion ended up being painful for you, Triss.”

Something tightened in Triss’ chest, but she tried to laugh it off, like Ciri was nothing more than a silly child again. Problem was, they both knew that she was not. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m happy to see you, lil’ sis.”

“But you’re not happy to see them. Together.”

Triss averted her gaze, knowing that if she kept looking at Ciri, that her eyes would betray her. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but what Geralt and I had wasn’t—”

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

Triss looked back at the blonde so fast that she nearly gave herself whiplash, her eyes widening in surprise. How…?

“It wasn’t him that you were staring at when they kissed,” Ciri answered, knowing Triss’ question before she voiced it. “You barely even noticed him when we came back – you were too busy staring at me… and then her. He faded into the background for you even then.”

Triss swallowed, looking down at her hands that lay limp in her lap. “Please don’t say anything to your mother,” she whispered, feeling ashamed of herself. “I’m trying to let it go. I know she’s happy.”

Ciri’s brow knit in pity, her hand coming to rest on her friend’s thigh. “She is,” she confirmed, lacing her fingers with Triss’ in an attempt to hold her together. “I wish you were too.”

Triss exhaled a bitter laugh at that, feeling her throat begin to close up a little as she fought off her emotions. “I think maybe I could have been, if I hadn’t fucked it all up.”

“What do you mean?”

Triss exhaled an unsteady breath, blinking back tears. “Philippa and I were… I don’t know. Something. But once she heard Yennefer was back…” She shrugged helplessly, shaking her head. “Maybe she was afraid something might happen between Yenna and I, and wanted to push me away before she ended up being the one who was tossed aside. But she should have known. She should have known that Yennefer would never want me; would never choose me over Geralt. She was afraid for nothing.”

Ciri, however, was apparently still stuck on the first part of that confession.

“You and _Philippa?_ But that’s—” But off of Triss’ look from her judgmental tone, Ciri held up her hands in surrender. “Lovely, really; I’m sure you two would make beautiful children,” she backtracked, and Triss rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t have a reason to like her. I’m not expecting you too, nor am I expecting you to understand. But this isn’t to do with the Lodge. This… this is about her. Who she is,” Triss told her, her voice softening as the pit of her stomach tightened and warmed. “…How she makes me feel.”

Ciri, to her credit, took that part seriously at least. “Being the best in your bed does not erase the pain of being second best in your heart, Triss. If she knew how you felt about Yennefer, then…” 

“But she _wasn’t,”_ Triss denied, because she had never placed them up against each other in her mind like that. It wasn’t like if Yennefer suddenly turned around and wanted her that she would leave Philippa; the other woman had been such an integral part of her life for so long that Triss didn’t think she even knew how to be without her. “She wasn’t second best, she was just…”

And that was when Triss realized.

She turned to look at Ciri, an expression of shock on her face. “She was just afraid of actually coming _first_.”

Because Philippa had always kept her at arm’s length, even before Triss realized she had feelings for Yennefer. The second Philippa felt _anything_ she completely shut down, needing their relationship to be about sex and nothing else. She was the one who decided that they could never be exclusive. She was the one who made certain that they didn’t see one another too often.

This was never about Yennefer. This was about her; this was about _Philippa._

_Her_ fear of commitment. _Her_ fear of having someone she could end up losing. And yes, of course the fact the Triss had feelings for another didn’t _help,_ but it had been like this long before Yennefer had been in the picture. Yennefer, who was easier for Triss to latch onto, because she knew it was something that would never come to fruition.

After all, if she was always pessimistic, she could never be disappointed.

But with Philippa she could be. There was a part of Triss that had wanted Philippa so desperately at one point, but when she was shut down more than once, it just made her afraid to ever try again _._ That was why focusing on Yennefer was a safer option. She knew she would never try; never actually _do_ anything. If Triss ran towards Yennefer, then perhaps she could forget that Philippa was trying to keep her at arm’s length, when all Triss wanted to do was wrap her in an embrace.

“…You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Ciri asked, watching the myriad of emotions play across Triss’ features as she began to work out what was _really_ happening underneath it all.

“I think… _shit._ I think I might be,” Triss breathed, a little shell-shocked that _that_ was the conclusion she had come to. “I was just always so terrified for her to know that, and so I— I ran. I ran in such stupid, stupid ways…”

Suddenly Triss was trying to get to her feet, nearly stumbling in the process. “I need to—I need to talk to her,” she tried to explain, “Call her, I—” but Ciri grasped onto her wrist, stilling her movements and her frantic thought process.

“You don’t have time,” she reminded her somberly, and Triss’ heart sank because it was true; she really did not. The sun was almost at its highest in the sky, and that was when Geralt had said to meet for council, and preparations for the Wild Hunt’s arrival would surely be made shortly afterwards.

“Don’t worry,” Ciri tried in an attempt to cheer her up as she wrapped an arm around Triss’ waist, leading her back towards the castle. “If I’m able, once this is all over, I’ll help you win her back. Maybe you can get her a gift; what do you think she would like? Something tells me she’d appreciate something like ‘the fresh tears of a virgin’, but you’d know her better than me…”

“Oh, ha, ha,” Triss responded sarcastically, but it did make it crack a smile at least. She hip bumped her, the light flush of her cheeks due to a sense of happiness she never really thought she’d feel again. “Maybe I should just bottle yours then.”

Ciri smirked, having an ace up her sleeve for this stretch of banter. “Well joke’s on you…”

“—No! Really? When? _Who?_ Oh, you _must_ tell me everything… _!”_

[x]

“Triss, if you don’t stop bloody _pacing_ and call her, then I will.”

“—No!” Triss exclaimed, knowing that would be far, _far_ worse an option. She and Yennefer currently resided in a room in Dandelion’s inn in Novigrad as they tried to recruit what was left of the Lodge. After the Wild Hunt had tried to take Ciri in Kaer Morhen, they knew they would need more help if they ever wanted a hope of defeating them for good. They had gotten Keira and Margarita on board already, but next on their list was Philippa, and they both knew that they would have a better chance of getting her to help if it was Triss who made the call.

Problem was, Triss _really_ did not want to do it with Yennefer there. Call it a hunch, but she believed that would very much hurt their chances of succeeding.

“I just—I need privacy.”

“Privacy?” Yennefer repeated, as though the word were foreign to her. She looked at her friend like she must be joking. “Triss, this is important, we don’t have time for your—”

“I know! I’m not—she just… Trust me, it will be better if she doesn’t see that we’re together.”

Yennefer stared at her. “Us,” she repeated. “Together. _Specifically.”_ Triss blushed a furious crimson and tried to turn around before the other woman saw. No such luck. Yennefer quirked her eyebrow in interest and asked, “Why?”

“…Please don’t make me answer that. If you truly are my friend, please just trust me.”

“If I truly am your…” Yennefer began in disbelief, as though the audacity of Triss astounded her. “If _you_ were ever my friend, you wouldn’t have fucked my man while he was unable to remember his love for me. Do not play that card with me, Triss. I’ve tried to let it go for the sake of the bigger picture, but you still very much owe me an explanation, let alone a bloody apology!” Triss looked down at her feet in shame, and Yennefer shook her head. “If I truly am your… how _dare_ you.”

“I’m _sorry,”_ Triss tried, needing her to believe that as she looked up at her, begging with her eyes. “You have no idea how sorry I really am, Yen, truly… but I cannot give you an explanation for that nor this. Please… please respect that.”

“I do not have to respect a _damn_ thing!” Yennefer snapped, causing Triss to take a step back and swallow hard. _This_ was the Yennefer for that she knew, and this was the Yennefer that she was afraid of. “You will tell me what you do not wish for me to know. _Now._ You owe me that, at the very least. _”_

Triss felt like her throat was starting to close up as she was overcome by a wave of anxiety. “I… she…”

“Spit it out.”

Triss was fairly certain she was going to vomit. She turned away from Yennefer, not wanting to look at her while she said this. “She won’t like that we’re together because I… I, um…” She covered her face, exhaling a loud breath as tears sprung to the back of her eyes. She felt so humiliated. She _knew_ how Yennefer was going to react to this, and it would not be well.

“ _Triss.”_

“—I have feelings for you,” Triss spit out finally, her voice strained with emotion. She still could not look at her, but she could feel the shame start to creep up the back of her neck. “I’ve had them for a very long time now. And I’m trying to get over them, I am, but Phil is… I think she’s jealous, although she won’t—she won’t admit it, and I just…! I need to tell her that I’m _sorry,_ and that I think I love her – like properly love her, not just… But I can’t _do_ that because then she’ll just—!”

“Triss— _Triss!”_ Yennefer exclaimed, trying to stop the other woman’s emotional tangent. She crossed the space between them, placing her arms on the other woman’s biceps to force her to stop, breathe, and just face her. Triss finally looked at her, fresh tears in her eyes, and watched as Yennefer tried to process everything that she had just said. To be fair, it _was_ quite a lot of new information. Triss doubted the woman even knew she had that close of a relationship with Philippa. She knew they used to sleep together, yes, but this was on an entirely different level than that.

Because Triss loved her.

_Shit._ She loved her. Triss hadn’t realized what that really meant until this moment.

“Shit, _shit…”_ Triss began, panicking again. She felt like she might actually start hyperventilating. “I do—I _do_ love her. She… she’s going to _hate_ that—she going to tell me I’m being foolish, she’s going to break my heart, I can’t—shit, I _can’t_ tell her, I can’t _—!”_

“Triss! Triss, stop it—just _breathe,”_ Yennefer instructed her, unable to even process her own feelings about what she was told, as she needed to take care of Triss first. “You’re acting hysterical.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Triss apologized, feeling like an absolute mess. Her cheeks were blotchy, her breathing and shallow. She also still couldn’t look her friend in the eyes, which was probably the worst part of it all. At this point, she was mostly talking to Yennefer’s shoes. “I shouldn’t put this on you; this isn’t—it isn’t your problem. You’re happy, and you _should_ be happy; this is why I didn’t want to tell you, because it’s _nothing_ , really. How I feel about you is stupid and pointless and it doesn’t even _matter_ anymore because I need to—no, I don’t just need to, I _want_ to focus on her. I want to fix things with Philippa, but I don’t even know _how…”_

“Triss.”

Triss exhaled a heavy breath, staring down at the floor. She still hadn’t really given Yennefer time to react to what she had admitted, and quite frankly, she really did not want to. It was why she kept rambling.

“Triss, look at me.”

The younger woman swallowed hard, wishing she could just keep _talking_ , yet suddenly finding that she was out of words. She felt stuck, which was probably why her head had to be raised by Yennefer as she placed a gentle finger under Triss’ chin, coaxing the sorceress to meet her gaze.

“Please don’t say it,” Triss begged softly, feeling a tear slide down the contour of her cheek. “I already know, and I don’t think I could bear it if I heard it out loud. Besides, I… I need this to be _my_ choice. If I only chose her because you turned me down, it’ll cheapen it. I can’t do that to her. Please.”

Yennefer looked at her for a long time, but eventually agreed to the request with a small nod. Triss exhaled a long breath, visibly relieved. She wiped the tear from her cheek, giving the other woman a small smile of gratitude. “…Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” A beat. “Although I have to say, fucking my man while I was away was a _very_ strange way to cope with your supposed feelings for me,” Yennefer told her, not pulling any punches in that regard. Triss noticeably winced in shame, hating that it sounded like Yennefer wasn’t even sure if she should believe her or not.

“I’m not proud of it,” Triss told her softly, her gaze falling downcast again. “And I know it sounds strange, so I’ll understand if you don’t believe me, but I did it—I did it to find you.” At Yennefer’s raised brow of disbelief, Triss explained, “If he was alive, then I assumed that meant that you had to be too. And I thought if… if maybe you heard what I was doing with him, that you’d come back. That you’d come back in a wave of fury, rip me to shreds if you needed to— Honestly, back then, I didn’t care what you did to me. I just wanted you home.” Triss remembered something then and laughed softly, bitterly. “Phil told me I was being masochistic. I don’t know. Maybe I was.”

“You _certainly_ were,” Yennefer agreed, before she found Triss’ gaze again and finished, “But that is also why I believe you. You always were such a _bloody_ doormat.” She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes at how ridiculous her friend could be sometimes.

“You need to learn your worth, Triss. Once you value yourself, you’ll be valued in return,” Yennefer told her, her brow furrowing in upset as she realized how low Triss’ self-esteem must be, if _this_ was the way she handled things. “And no one, _no_ one – not Philippa, and especially not me – is worth bringing yourself pain. You can raise people up without having them step on you in the process.”

Triss’ stomach tightened with shame and regret, so she tried to both cut the tension, and make herself feel better with a joke. “What if I _like_ being stepped on?”

Yennefer just stared at her, stone-faced. She was not kidding around, and that only made Triss feel even _more_ foolish as she tried to clarify, “…I was just joking.”

“Do I _look_ like I’m laughing?”

Triss pursed her lips, the tips of her ears turning pink. Sometimes, when Yennefer chastised her, it felt an awful lot like she was disappointing her mother. “I’m sorry,” she apologized softly. “I know you’re just tying to help. I just… I’ve never really felt like I was worth much. And maybe it’s because how I was treated as a child, or—”

“Triss, we were _all_ thrown out as children,” Yennefer reminded her, taking her friend’s hand in hers. “We were all unwanted. We were all ugly, terrible things that our families did not want. That’s why we were trained as sorceresses. We _all_ have these issues, and you’re— you’re still very young. It’s understandable that you’d still be working through those things, but it breaks my heart to see it anyway, because I really wish you did not have to.”

Yennefer gently brushed an errant strand of hair out of the young woman’s eyes, carefully tucking it behind one of her ears. She touched her cheek then, her brow furrowing with sadness before she seemed to decide the best way to protect her would be to keep her close, and brought Triss entirely in her arms. Triss’ chest constricted heavily with emotion, and she wasted no time wrapping her arms around her friend as she tried not to cry at the gesture.

Even if Yennefer wasn’t in love with her, she _did_ love her. Triss knew that now, and it was… it was good.

It was enough.

When they parted, Yennefer gave her friend an encouraging smile. “Get yourself cleaned up,” she instructed. “You are going to call Philippa, and you are going to make sure she agrees to help us. You will _not_ take no as an answer. And once we’ve all met face-to-face, should there be some downtime, I promise you that I will help you get her attention.”

Triss smiled sadly at her. She appreciated the gesture, but she doubted there was much to be done – especially by her. “Thank you, but I don’t see how you can help.”

“Philippa is territorial,” Yennefer reminded her, a devious smirk playing at the edges of her lips. “Believe me, she will _not_ like watching someone else touching what she deems to be hers. She’s already jealous of me? Oh, I can make it worse. I can make it _so_ much worse…”

[x]

Triss did convince Philippa, in the end. That did not, however, mean that the woman planned to be _pleasant_ about it.

The ship they sailed from Novigrad to Skellige rocked uncomfortably in the sea. Kiera, looking rather green as the ship tossed and turned, immediately retreated to the under cabin while Margarita made snide remarks about how perhaps she shouldn’t have overindulged herself with wine before setting out on a sea voyage. Triss heard Ciri laugh then and she glanced over to see her smiling at Geralt, playing what looked to be a game of gwent whilst Yennefer looked on at them fondly. And then her eyes landed on the place they would ultimately stay as she took in Philippa, who had her back turned to her as she stood at the edge of the boat, her braids billowing in the wind behind her.

Triss swallowed, yet she did not move towards her. She just stared. In all honesty, she was much too frightened to talk to Philippa now that she had realized and accepted how she felt about her. The other woman wasn’t exactly _pleased_ whenever Triss expressed emotion towards her, and love? That was about the grandest emotion one could have. Triss was afraid that she’d be furious with her for even daring to feel such a thing.

Apparently, she took too long to move, because suddenly Yennefer was next to her.

“Is this your grand plan?” she asked in a chastising tone. “Just _staring_ at her until she decides to notice you?”

“She has noticed me,” Triss said somberly, because she was so focused on Philippa that she could actually _feel_ whenever the other woman used magic. Philippa might not be able to see in the traditional way anymore, but she knew Triss was there. She knew what she was doing. “She’s just ignoring me.”

“If that’s what you believe, then let’s see her ignore this…” Yennefer told her before she began to move a little closer to her. Triss inhaled a sharp breath, holding out her hand to physically stop the other sorceress from coming any closer.

“Yen, this—this is not a good idea,” Triss told her, her heart beginning to beat a little faster with nerves. “If you act like…” Triss couldn’t even say it, honestly. She turned her head, looking at her friend with an apologetic expression, because she didn’t want to just spit on her offer of help, but this did not sound like a good idea at _all_. “It might confuse me.”

Yennefer looked a little exasperated by that response and instructed. “Triss, look at her.” Triss furrowed her brow, but Yennefer encouraged her with a little nod of her head, so she did as instructed and allowed her gaze to land on Philippa. She looked so fucking beautiful, with little bits of her hair beginning to fall from her braids as the wind whipped her hair around her face. Triss felt her stomach tighten and Yennefer repeated, “ _Look_ at her.” She allowed Triss a moment longer to do so before asking, “Are you confused?”

“…No.”

Because she wasn’t. She knew what she wanted now, and she needed to start trusting herself if she ever wanted to get it.

“That’s what I thought,” Yennefer said as she closed the distance between them. She just stood next to her though, gently brushing the hair off of Triss’ shoulders as she used her body language to flirt with her. And it probably would have worked, of that, Triss had no doubt, but at the end of the day, she didn’t want to use Philippa’s insecurities to get her attention either.

Triss stopped her with her hand again.

“I can’t do this,” she told her softly, looking back up at Yennefer. “I appreciate you trying to help, Yenna, I do, but… I can’t manipulate her. I don’t want her to want me just because she thinks of me as her _property._ I want her to want me because…”

“Because she loves you?”

Triss scoffed, her stomach twisting in her gut as she shook her head. “Please. Philippa doesn’t love me. She would never allow herself to; it’d give her a weakness, and that’s not something she’d ever let happen. At this point, I’d just consider myself lucky if she took me back to her bed.”

“What did I tell you?” Yennefer said sternly, her brow leveling as she looked at her friend. “You deserve more than that, Triss. Maybe asking for her love might be a bit much at the moment, but at the very least, you deserve her affection and care. She needs to value you, Triss. She needs to value more than your body, because that is _not_ all you are.”

Triss wet her drying lips, the sea air beginning to parch them. She nodded her understanding, looking back towards the woman she loved. Yennefer put a comforting hand on the small of her back. “Good. Now go and speak with her.”

She gave her what was probably supposed to be a light push, but Yennefer had never really known her own physical strength, and nearly caused Triss to trip over her own two feet in the process. Triss looked back and shot her a glare, and Yennefer just smirked unapologetically. _Asshole._

A deep breath of air filled the young woman’s lungs as Triss looked back at Philippa, mentally preparing herself for their reunion. _Okay. She could do this._ After all, it was just Philippa – someone she had known and been close to for most of her adult life – what was the worst that could happen?

“—You and Yennefer certainly seem _close.”_

Triss nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected statement. Philippa still hadn’t turned around, nor had she made any indication that she had known that Triss was behind her. Now that she was paying attention though, Triss could feel the aura of magic around the other sorceress. She had no doubt been magically watching them for a very long time.

“I’m sure you’re positively _thrilled_ that she didn’t decide to flay you alive for your indiscretions with the witcher. Although I will admit I am rather disappointed that she seems to be going soft; there are far too few sorceresses with a backbone nowadays.”

Philippa still would not look at her, as though she didn’t deem her worthy enough. Triss’ stomach churned uncomfortably in her gut at the blatant dismissal. There was a part of her that wanted to retreat, as clearly Philippa was still very displeased with her, but there was another part of her, the part of her that knew she deserved better, that wanted to stay and fix this, because Philippa was something worth holding on to.

“Yennefer is my friend,” Triss reminded her, her voice unwavering. “And if you really were magically watching us, then perhaps you noticed that despite speaking to someone _you_ believe I value more than you, my gaze never wavered as I practically stared a hole through the back of your head. Or did you just decide to dismiss that fact, as you knew it would not fit your scorned-lover narrative?”

_That_ made Philippa turn around. “My _scorned-lover_ narrative? I suggest you remember who you’re speaking to, Triss.”

“I know who I’m speaking to, _Philippa_ ,” Triss responded, standing tall as she looked at the woman in front of her. For once she actually felt as though she were standing at the same height as her, despite being the naturally taller one. Philippa always had a way of making others shrink in her presence though. But not today. Not anymore.

“I’m _so_ fucking—” _in love with you,_ but Triss caught herself before said it out loud. Now was definitely not the right time for that. “Despite what you’d like me to believe, I know that my feelings for Yennefer hurt you,” Triss tried instead, choosing a different tactic. Philippa outright scoffed at that claim, but Triss ignored her and continued. “They were bearable for you when she wasn’t around, but now that she’s back, you think I’m going to run after her because you’ve decided that I must want her more than you. But I don’t. I _don’t_ want her more than you, Phil; I just thought if I latched on to something unattainable, that in the end, it would hurt less than being rejected by the one person I actually _did_ value above all others _._ I did love Yennefer once, I won’t deny that, but she ended up becoming more of an infatuation than anything else; a way of coping with my feelings for _you_ because I knew you would rather choke on your own tongue than admit that those feelings were reciprocated _,_ you absolute, insufferable _idiot._ ”

Philippa, for the first time Triss had think she had ever seen, actually looked a little taken aback by that. But Triss was on a roll, this kind of _high_ that inhabited her entire body and made her feel like she was going a bit mad because goddamn her, this was so stupid; they had always been so _stupid_ when it came to one another _,_ hadn’t they?

“So maybe if you just learned to shove your ridiculous pride to the side for three whole seconds, _you_ might be the one to realize that you could finally want for nothing at all, should you only allow yourself. Because I’m right here, Phil. I’ve _always_ been right fucking here.”

Philippa was silent for a long moment and, despite the fact that she no longer had eyes, Triss felt as though she were staring straight through her. But Triss did not falter, did not back down. She just stared straight back her, her spine straight and her jaw clenched as she resolved to hold onto her newfound confidence.

Finally, Philippa spoke. She did not sound angry, but she did not sound happy either. “…Come with me.”

Triss blinked, not expecting that. But Philippa did not give her a moment to process it, as she was already on the move. It took Triss a few seconds but finally she got her feet to move and she followed Philippa down into the under cabin and into the private quarters that the sorceress was residing in for the duration of their journey. For a second, Triss thought Philippa just wanted to yell at her in private,  but with a wave of the older woman’s hand the door was closed behind Triss, and suddenly she was shoved rather unceremoniously up against the wood.

And then Philippa’s lips were on her own.

Triss exhaled an unsteady breath at the unexpected kiss, and while a part of her wanted to be like _what the hell is this even supposed to mean,_ at the end of the day, she had missed the feeling of the other woman’s lips against her own, and so she gave in to the feeling, tangling her fingers in Philippa’s hair and kissing her back with equal desperation.

Philippa bit down on her bottom lip and Triss groaned low in her throat, her nails scraping helplessly against the back of the other woman’s neck. And shit, she _wanted_ this, she wanted this so damn badly that it felt like she might just fall to pieces if she did not get it, but at the end of the day, this had to be worth more than that. _She_ had to be worth more than that, because sex was not the only thing that Triss wanted. Not anymore.

“No, Phil—I need…” she tried, but Philippa’s lips had fallen to her neck before her mouth covered her pulse point, and as the older woman began marking her as her own, Triss’ knees nearly gave out from under her as a fresh wave of arousal made camp in the deepest recesses of her abdomen. “Please,” she begged, but it wasn’t for the sex, and they both knew it.

Philippa’s breathing was labored as she raised her head to face her, a gentle hand coming up to be placed on Triss’ flushed cheek. The pads of her fingers traced the curvature of the younger woman’s parted lips then, and Triss’ chest tightened at the expression on her lover’s face. But then that hand fell to the buttons on her dress that she had done all the way up to the neck, and in a wave of panic, Triss grabbed her lover’s hand before she could undo them.

“Please,” Triss begged, her heart beating heavily in her chest at the sudden rush of nerves that had overtaken her. “You know that I can’t.”

Because after Sodden Hill, she _never_ showed her chest anymore. Triss’ scars ran deeper than just the surface, and Philippa was more than aware of how she felt about it. That was why when they had slept together since, she was only able to disrobe her from the waist down. Triss liked to pretend that it didn’t hinder their sex life but the truth of it was that things had never been the same since, and they both knew it. It was like the trust was gone.

“I no longer have my eyes,” Philippa reasoned with her, her hand holding steadfast against the woman’s buttons. Triss’ hand tightened around the other woman’s, her palm sweaty and knuckles white. “Whatever you’re frightened of me seeing, you know that I cannot anymore.”

Triss swallowed hard, trying to wet the dryness in the back of her throat. “…You could still feel it. ‘See’ it, even. With magic,” she whispered softly, ashamed of her insecurities. But she was absolutely terrified that, should Philippa know what she looked like now, that she would no longer want her. The thought nearly crippled her.

“I won’t use magic if you do not wish me to.”

Triss said nothing though, still terribly stuck in her own fears, and Philippa hesitated for a moment, trying to find her strength in order to step outside of her own comfort zone. “…You have me,” she told her finally, and for the first time, Triss thought she could actually detect a slight waver in Philippa’s voice from her nerves. It wasn’t much, but that was _a lot_ for her to say, and Triss inhaled a sharp breath in response. “Now let me have you.”

Triss’ breathing thinned.

“I’ve missed you, my pet,” Philippa breathed against her lips as she leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. It was almost as though she were afraid someone else might hear and find a way to use it against her. But she still said it regardless, still knew that she _had_ to say it, because Triss needed to hear it. “I’ve missed _all_ of you. It’s been such a very long time…”

With a flick of her wrist, Philippa undid a singular button. She paused before she attempted another one though, trying to gauge the younger woman’s reaction. Triss inhaled a sharp breath, her heart pounding uncomfortably beneath her rib cage, but in the end, she did not move to cover herself. Instead she just swallowed hard and nodded her consent, before she realized that Philippa was not using magic to ‘see’ her. So instead she forced herself to clear her throat, and said in the tiniest voice, “…Okay.”

Philippa undid another button.

Triss closed her eyes and tried to control her nerves as each button became unclasped. She was certain that Philippa could feel how hard her heart was beating within her chest, and there was a part of her that wished that the other woman would just magic away her clothes and be done with it. The other part of her though, the part of her that was truer to herself and her own emotions, knew that would be too much too fast though, and it seemed Philippa knew that as well.

Eventually though, the last button was unclasped, and with a tug on the belt that bound the rest of her dress to her body, the entire fabric fell away to puddle at her feet on the floor.

Triss exhaled a hard breath, but still would not open her eyes.

The muscles in her abdomen contracted at the first touch of Philippa’s hand upon her skin. It was still low enough that she could not feel any scars though, but once she began gently dragging her fingertips upwards, Triss’ breathing noticeably shallowed. Philippa’s hand finally began to feel the etched ridges in her skin that began just above her navel and spread horizontally across the left side of her chest, and despite her labored breathing, Triss was doing mostly alright with it. That was, until her lover’s hand brushed over what was left of her nipple on her right side and slid across to the left, where she was met with a cleft in the middle of Triss’ torso where the spell on the Hill had hit her. It was deep and it was angry looking, but what killed Triss the most was her marred skin on the other side, with no nipple and significantly less breast tissue.

Philippa touched it, and Triss began to weep.

She tried to move away from her, but Philippa held her hand to what was left of her breast, directly over her erratically beating heart. “Look at me,” she instructed, and Triss, through her tears, did as she was told. Philippa did not move her hand, but used her other to grasp ahold of her blindfold, pulling it away from her eyes.

Triss inhaled a sharp breath.

Philippa’s eye sockets were healed for the most part, but the amount of scarring around them was both gruesome and upsetting. Another tear fell down Triss’ cheek and she reached out to touch her face, her chest aching as she breathed sadly, “Phil…”

“If you believe yourself to be ugly, then you will have to count me among the repulsive. I may not have eyes, Triss, but I’m not an idiot; I know what I look like.”

Triss shook her head, her cheek’s blotchy and stained with tears as she looked at the most beautiful woman she had ever known. “You could _never_ be ugly. Never…” she breathed, her fingertips brushing over the raised edges of the scars the resided close to Philippa’s temple.

“Then I’d appreciate if you stopped _weeping_ , because you already understand how I view you.”

Triss sniffled, trying to control her tears. It was difficult though, as what Philippa had said made her want to cry for an altogether _different_ reason. But Philippa, being _Philippa,_ of course had to brush it all aside as she began to impatiently clean the tears off of Triss’ cheeks. “One of these days you’re going to accidentally drown yourself in all these unnecessary tears you shed.” She exhaled an exasperated breath once she had finished her task of cleaning the other woman’s face. “Are you done?”

Triss gave her a small nod in response. “…Yes.”

“Good.”

Philippa took ahold of her hand then, bringing the other woman towards the bed. But instead of dumping Triss on it rather brusquely as per usual, Philippa sat down on the edge of it, and had Triss stand between her thighs. Triss watched her with interest, her breath shallowing a little as she felt her lover’s nails drag up her thighs until they met the only fabric Triss still had on. In one smooth movement her undergarments were removed, and Philippa leaned forwards, her lips covered the top of the younger sorceress’ mound.

Triss inhaled a sharp breath, but it was quickly replaced with a moan as the next time Philippa’s lips connected with her skin, it was lower. Her tongue snaked its way through her folds and Triss tensed, placing one hand on her lover’s shoulder as she tried to remain upright. But it seemed that Philippa had other ideas as suddenly her arms were around her thighs and she quickly _pulled_ just as she herself allowed her back to be flattened against the mattress. Triss squealed in surprise as she landed with her knees on either side of Philippa’s head.

“Phil! I could have landed on your _neck—”_

But Philippa didn’t seem to care as she pulled Triss’ thighs towards her, burying her face between them once more. At the very least it seemed to rob Triss of her complaints as she fisted her hands in darkened hair and moaned, pitching forward as she felt Philippa take her entirely into her mouth. “… _Shit,”_ she breathed in appreciation, closing her eyes as she allowed herself to be immersed in the feeling. Sexually, Philippa Eilhart was good at quite a lot of things, but _this?_ This was like an artform for her.

Triss leaned back then, placing her hands behind her as she gripped Philippa’s hips. But it was then that she realized between heavy exhales, “—Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Philippa exhaled an exasperated breath.

Triss let out an undignified squawk as she was practically thrown off her, causing her to land unceremoniously on her back. Thankfully it was a rather soft mattress, and Triss exhaled a frustrated puff of air as she tried to blow the errant strands of her own hair away from her face. “I didn’t mean that you should _stop—”_ she tried, but Philippa just crawled over her body, placing a hand over the young woman’s mouth.

Triss’ expression went from surprised to irritated in less than a handful of seconds.

But Philippa did as she requested, and used magic to dematerialize her clothing, leaving her bare before her lover’s gaze. A fierce heat erupted in the pit of Triss’ stomach as she remembered how beautiful the other woman really was, her eyes taking in all the other woman had to offer her. “ _There,”_ Philippa responded, as though each interruption was more inconvenient than the last. _“_ Now, are you going to continue to complain, or are you actually going to allow me to make love to you?”

Triss blinked, those few, simple words seemingly robbing the thoughts from her mind along with the breath from her lungs. Philippa had _never_ said anything like that to her before. She had never even _wanted…_

Philippa allowed her hand to fall from Triss’ lips, and the young sorceress sucked in a sharp breath as she looked at the woman before her like she was seeing her for the first time. Tears sprung to the back of her eyes, and now it was Triss’ turn to place _her_ hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle the intense wave of emotion that those words made her feel.

“—Are you crying again?”

Philippa sounded absolutely exasperated by the prospect, but as she promised Triss that she wouldn’t use magic to ‘see’ during all of this, she apparently did not know for sure.

“…No?” Triss lied in a small voice, the waver in it absolutely giving herself away. She sniffed, and Phil exhaled a long breath of air before she reached out to wipe her tears away again. But Triss didn’t want Philippa to feel like she was constantly having to pick her up whenever she showed the slightest bit of emotion, and besides, this wasn’t the _bad_ type of crying at all.

Triss gently took Philippa’s hand in her own, stilling it against her cheek. She smiled then, allowing Philippa to feel the gesture so that she would know it was there. “I’m happy,” she told her softly. “You make me happy.”

“I know,” Philippa responded plainly, and Triss exhaled a short laugh at how cocky that sounded, even though she was certain Philippa wasn’t meaning to be so this time. “Although I’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from telling anyone else that. I have a lot of enemies, and I don’t—”

The tone in Philippa’s voice shifted then, her voice thinning a little as she momentarily stopped herself from speaking. Triss looked at her, watching the sorceress’ brow knit a little with emotion. It made Triss’ heart skip a beat. “I don’t want you getting caught up in it,” Philippa finished, her tone much softer than it was before.

Triss swallowed, looking at the woman in front of her for a moment before she brought their clasped hands to her lips, kissing the back of Philippa’s hand. “Don’t worry,” she breathed softly, allowing her words to be felt against her lover’s skin as she looked up at her and smiled. “You actually giving a shit about someone other than yourself will be our little secret.”

Philippa gently smirked and Triss leaned in, covering her lips with her own. This time, when Philippa kissed her back, she did not instinctively dominate it; she did not force Triss to go at her pace, or make her do what it was that _she_ wanted. For what felt like the first time, she allowed Triss to lead with this slow, languid kiss that caused the younger woman’s heart to beat unsteadily beneath her chest.

Triss leaned back against the pillows then, taking the other woman with her. It was only then that Philippa took the lead as she hovered over her, her hand immediately getting lost between Triss’ thighs. The younger woman hissed softly in pleasure and closed her eyes, feeling the tips of Philippa’s fingers dip gently inside of her before she dragged them upwards, spreading her juices across her hardened nub. Triss exhaled an uneven breath, her legs spreading as she tangled her fingers in Philippa’s hair and arched her back.

She brought their lips together again, and with every movement of Philippa’s fingers, another strangled whimper fell from the back of Triss’ throat. Philippa gently stimulated her as she broke the kiss in order to press her lips against her cheek, her jaw, her throat. She parted her lips and took the sensitive flesh of the younger woman’s neck into her mouth, sucking just below Triss’ ear as she slid her fingers deep inside of her.

“Fuck— _Phil,”_ Triss gasped, the sensation causing a shiver to roll down her spine as she grasped for her, practically tearing out her braids in a desperate attempt to hold onto something. Their lips connected again and when Philippa began to use her hand to pleasure her, she situated it directly in front of her hips, using the momentum of her body to drive deeper inside of the woman below her.

Triss cried out, her fingernails digging into the back of Philippa’s neck as she forced the other woman to pitch forward and rest her forehead against her own. Triss could feel her lover’s uneven breaths against her lips and with another deep thrust the younger woman whimpered desperately, her hand coming up to rest against Philippa’s cheek, thumb gently dusking over the woman’s bottom lip. Triss looked up at her, looked up at a woman with no eyes and – according to many others – no soul, and yet knew with no uncertainty how she was feeling. Philippa’s emotions, the one’s that she often claimed she did not have, were written plain as day on her face, but it was the moment that the other woman leaned down not to kiss her face, but to kiss her _chest_ , that Triss’ hold on her own emotions shattered.

Another tear fell from her eye, but this time, it wasn’t because she was ashamed or terrified. Philippa continued to pleasure her, her lips dragging across the expanse of marred and uneven flesh as she left small kisses in her wake, and for the first time in a long time, Triss actually felt beautiful. She felt loved. She felt taken care of.

“I love you,” Triss breathed before she could stop herself, the emotion in her voice making her words break in the back of her throat. Her hand tangled in a mess of half-undone braids, cradling Philippa’s head as she leaned her cheek against Triss’ chest, the scars around her eyes meeting the ones on the younger woman’s torso.

“…I know.”

The words were barely above a whisper, and though they were short and few, they were enough, as Triss knew they were the closest Philippa could get to the sentiment right now. And it was _okay_ because Triss didn’t have to hear the words to feel their effect; she felt them in the way that Philippa touched her, in the way that she whispered her name into her ear, and in the way she wrapped her up in her embrace. And when it was all over, when they both were spent and they lay next to one another on the bed, Triss looked over at the other woman and smiled, knowing that she had made the right choice.

Because there had never really been a choice at all.

**THE END**


End file.
